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Pain and Poetry

Today why my heart rips apart
My soul knocks on my chest expecting propulsion
Why I drown into nothingness today
Why sorrow feels like something to be suffered
And not expressed.
I remember there were days
Not so rosy
Yet days when alphabet clamoured in mind
Swimming in the pool of emotions
Days when I would sit back
To carefully string them into words
And stuff them into sentences
The ink making impressions of my mind
On the immaculate paper
A messy maze of words
Holding a plethora of thoughts
Which fail to escape
Revolving within, vacillating between points
Formulating a melange of toxic emotions
Which fumed and swelled up to choke me
Yet I inhaled all
Like a psychedelic,
Only to be part
Of the relieving vicious cycle
The cycle, circling between my
Nebulous mind and the sprawling
Spotless papers ready to get my thoughts
Woven on them and present a piece
Of chaotic tapestry
That virtuously narrated my defeat.
How I secretly wished for pain
So that I could enter the alleviating cycle again
Scribbling an eulogy for the source of sorrow
Which I loved to read again and again.
How the prickly rugs of grieving words
Comforted me like no joy ever did
Instilling a sense of fulfilment
For pain was my Art’s seed.
But today, something weighs me down
Like all other days
I rummage for words to illustrate.
Am not at ease
Since it’s time to inhale my convoluted
Miasma of emotions
But nothing fumes
Nothing fumes, since I fall short of yarn
To spin words onto the paper
That’s supposed to emanate the vapour.
I sense voice getting sucked out of my larynx
And strong hands clenching my lungs
As I struggle to inhale and exhale.
I had not known suffering till today
Neither had I realised,
‘Poetry was such a good escape! ‘


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