The Journal
I had always succeeded
to cut and keep aside
the coiling tendrils
of the creepers of sorrow
that come my way...
The cast away, unattended
mass in the attic of my mind
starts to fume and smoulder
and the darkness engulfs me ..
The surrounding darkness
gets thicker as days crawl by
There is not even a silver streak
anywhere in the horizon..
I curl up in the darkest corner
of the deepest abyss in my mind..
Drained of the slightest strength
to move or even to open the eyes..
It was never like this in the past..
A breeze, a drizzle,
a fresh bloom, song of a quail,
the first rays of the Sun
Even a friendly phone call
used to brighten me up
pulling me into the light
up from the darkness ..
As profound sorrow engulfs me
I hear a feeble murmur from within..
I strain with all the bones in my ears..
and guess I hear what it says .
"Do not look for light outside..
It is hidden in the ashes,
somewhere deep within..
You only need to blow soft
to rekindle the embers of the spirit.."
I stirr up and try to blow
A hiss, a feeble breath and
a stronger phoooh..
"No no..It should be words "
I hear my inner voice whisper..
I gather up all my courage
to form words for my emotions...
Words tumble out reluctantly
clumsily , intermittently...
and gradually rush out like a stream ..
I watch the darkness dissolve
in the stream of words..
The horizon turns crimson
heralding the rising Sun..
Preetha Raj
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