Sunday, December 30, 2007

Glittering hands.

Spiraling. Downwards. Moments of peace torn by the past, moments of insanity, insecurities biting into happiness that is rarely found. Questions destroying dreams, like sandcastles lovingly built are washed away by the sea currents.
I’m there again.
I had closed my eyes. And it was a beautiful dream. I was out of the four walls. There was a waterfall, a sunset, brilliant green blades of grass and beautiful music echoing through the air. I was overwhelmed; it was difficult to believe I was here. Yet, when I gazed into the lake I saw my reflection. When I screamed, I heard my shout. It was real.
I saw those hands. Many colours glittered on his every finger and I reached out to touch.
We were lying on the grass, I wasn’t alone at last.

Did I want eternity? Did I crave security? Those promises were made to me before. I had learnt they meant nothing. They led you to a cliff and begged you to fall, shatter into a million bloody pieces, strewn all over the paradise of your mind.
I had stared at my torn corpse for too long. The blood had not yet dried, and I saw, painfully- that even in the absurd way my head was twisted, my eyes still appeared to be dreaming. So I was breathing again.

The hands were everywhere, holding me and caressing me. I wanted to feel, without the pain of yesterday, as if I were still alive. And I saw myself twist away. My mind was fighting, but my body wouldn’t obey, it wouldn’t allow me to feel cherished, it began to tremble and shake, making me feel like a freak, like I had lost all control.

The loving hands moved away. The eyes blinked and it felt like he was gone. My eyes were open wide. It was lost; I searched amongst the tall concrete walls that had sprung around me again. The window of hope, the golden ray of sunshine…

It’s black again.

I settle myself into the corner, where I’ve sat for so long. Picking up a piece of stone I sketch on the walls- the waterfalls, the sun, the stars....
and the glittering hands.

-Pushpanjali Banerji
dec’07

7 comments:

Jasmine said...

"strewn all over the paradise of your mind"

All that glitters,aint gold.
Yes,I know,life aint dictated by one liners.

Anirudh Goswamii said...

Beautiful description.. you are gifted in terms of perception and expression. Yes, I agree with your friend, "All that glitters is not gold". The glittering hands only reflect a radiance that originates in the eye of the onlooker. The stones are merely mirroring the various colours..but the colours are already there, in you. Hence, beauty, as the bard once said, lies in the eyes of the beholder.

The Glittering hand
Magic wand
Hour glass with depleting sand..

The magician weilds
His oh-so-rehearsed spell
The subject sees heaven
When all the while it has been hell

The magician's job is done
The subject had her fun
The magician makes a move to run
The magic, though can not be undone

The joy given,
The wounds healed,
The lost love found was all
That the trick revealed.

The magician, an ordinary man
Gives his all, the best he can

push said...

"The magician, an ordinary man"
The magician is never an ordinary man, baby. i hate your modesty.

push said...

Dimpu..:P

Beautiful poem!

Anirudh Goswamii said...

glad u liked it.. :P

Anirudh Goswamii said...

stumbled over this.. its beautiful.. the description.. the colours..the pictures and the feelings.. the innocence of love.. the fear.. still, i find every element woven with a delicate thread of silk.. u write so well.. :)

blinded blue teddy said...

all for you, about you baby..