I dreamt I was killed at dusk:
Took
the hit while remembering a prayer,
A
bullet, a knife or a cardiac attack felt like arrows of kama,
Thought
of an old laughable act, flailing-arms-crying-ma
But
I stood silent till the last thought vapourized.
Those
crazy eyes stared at me, massacring everyone,
I
returned a crazy loving smile, recognizing my killer,
That
hopping on one leg, those locks of matted hair
I
should have said thank-you-o-god-you-latecomer
But
I stood silent till the last thought vapourized.
That
dream erased my nightmares, nearly.
I
nearly forgot the lives I killed each day.
There
was love’s death, divorce, suicide of the soul,
And
a bewildering loneliness on a stage with no role,
I
faced the unseeing crowd, a joker with no words, wide-eyed fool.
A
tourist, a foreigner till I was a stranger in native land,
Raped,
tortured, a mere plaything, forsaken and forgotten,
In
solitary confinement, with emptiness, without rest,
And
a fading drip-drip-drip of hope, that’s the cruelest.
I
faced the unseeing crowd, a joker with no words, wide-eyed fool.
