LIVING THROUGH THE WOUNDS



Set away amid the noise
My tattered reality is pierced with thorns
My consciousness is shot with a gun
Trying to pass through
An unattainable destination.

The mark of the wounds
From the clutches
Grow more profound
In impenetrable caliginosity.

Obscure little light from beyond.
Can one ever attain that?
I wonder.

My aim is to steady my aim.
Afflicted with aimlessness
I'm now blind and crook.

A limb from my shoulder
Fell off in the storm
And vanished in the hole.

I'm wailing in anguish.

Emptiness
In the whirlpool of
Shadow and light
Light and shadow.

For ages I've been laying in the dry floor.
My wounds are rotten.

Can my crippledom be mothered again
And some splendid dreams be planted?
I wonder.

Because
A breathing corpse
Is striving against poisoned air.
Only to win the affection of rain. 


About the author: Hailing from the backwaters of Baksa district in Assam, Daisy Barman is a bilingual poet (she writes both in English and Assamese). Torn with the death of her mother at a very tender age she took to scribbling to calm her soul. Most of her poems are result of the loss and the inner struggle that she had gone through down the years. She is a Doctoral Research Scholar in the Department of Folklore Research in Gauhati University. [Read More]

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