I Dreamt I Was Killed

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.