There wasn’t a day … Naleswaram Sankaram
.
There wasn’t a day without me getting hurt.
And by penning the ultimate word-wound
I don’t intend to rake it further.
When the wound itself begins to voice
Every swoon that lapses down its lips
Accentuates it.
Life is inured to a fiddling tick ticking.
The chappals that bear me
The shirt I don and the pant I enter in,
The food I eat, the water I gut, the air I breathe
And all the rest that help and sustain me
Have all been bubbling with vitality
Are propping up this fruitless bod.
It’s only me that continue to remain
A waxing waste weighing down the earth.
I couldn’t become the crescent of revolution
Nor stream like its philosophical strain .
How long a nameless me should duck under like this?
Languishing in this spineless weakness
I can’t bear subjecting these limbs to hardships myself
.
I wish I were blown to unidentifiable smithereens by some accident;
I wish I were deported severing myself from me;
Surrendering to a wakeless sleep
I wish I were prostrating before my body tabernacle;
I wish this somatic substance gratifies itself
Identifying with clods of earth .
It’s criminal that the system that incites suicides
Itself doesn’t cease.
But how can I help it when
I am stalled from becoming something,
Just like a relic in a museum
I hang on to this system like its futuristic photo,
And I cross myself everyday and watch?
Of what use is this body
When it can’t meld with the wounded and conned
drenching in blood ?
Why should I exist at all
Committing outrage upon myself?
I entreat you, my friend,
Instead of abandoning me
In the lap of this pampering system
Won’t you care to hang this wounded thimble vitae
On some noose of time?
I shall be grateful to you and your time.
I would rather remain a wound
In the history of slave word-wounds I chronicle
Or a refrain of
The wound-composers .
.
Thanks for sharing this multi-layered poem. Very powerfully worded, it mesmerically draws one into itself and pleads to be read over and over again.
మెచ్చుకోండిమెచ్చుకోండి
Thank you Shernaz.
That is a great compliment to the Poet and I shall convey it to him. As I said the man is loveably simple and humble. Not his poems. They make a compelling reading as you said.
with best regards
మెచ్చుకోండిమెచ్చుకోండి
మూర్తిగారు,
వుదయమే చదివేను. కాని వ్యాఖ్య రాయలేకపోయా!యెందుకో నేను గాయపడ్డా విచిత్రంగా!!!
మెచ్చుకోండిమెచ్చుకోండి
శర్మగారూ,
అర్రెర్రే! I am so sorry ఎలా జరిగింది? మీ ఆరోగ్యం జాగ్రత్త.
మీరు శీఘ్రంగా కోలుకోవాలని మనసారా ఆకాంక్షిస్తున్నాను.
అభివాదములతో
మెచ్చుకోండిమెచ్చుకోండి
శర్మగారూ,
నాకు ఇప్పుడో అనుమానం వచ్చింది. మీరు గాయం అన్నమాట శబ్దార్థంలో గాక metaphorical గా వాడేరేమోనని. అలాగయితే నా ముందుజవాబు ఉపహరించుకున్నట్టుగా భావించండి.
కవికి అటువంటి ప్రశంశకంటే కావలసింది ఇంకేముంటుంది? అతనికి తప్పకుండా మీ అభిప్రాయం అందజేస్తాను.
అభివాదములతో
మెచ్చుకోండిమెచ్చుకోండి
మూర్తిగారు,
మీరు రెండవసారి వూహించినదే నిజం. రచయితకి నా అభినందనలు తెలియచేయగలరు. ధన్యవాదాలు.
మెచ్చుకోండిమెచ్చుకోండి