Strong Mercy

My desires are many and my cry is pitiful,
but ever didst thou save me by hard refusals;
and this strong mercy has been wrought into my life through and through.

Day by day thou art making me worthy of the simple,
great gifts that thou gavest to me unasked---this sky and the light, this body and the
life and the mind---saving me from perils of overmuch desire.

There are times when I languidly linger
and times when I awaken and hurry in search of my goal;
but cruelly thou hidest thyself from before me.

Day by day thou art making me worthy of thy full acceptance by
refusing me ever and anon, saving me from perils of weak, uncertain desire.

[from Gitanjali (Song Offersings) by Rabindranath Tagore]

Bittersweet

(for the real “homicidal nanny”)

I have forgotten you, everything about you

That adorable li’l face,- picture perfect innocence,
hiding all trace
of the bitter cruelty within.
Those beautiful sad eyes, gazing at distant skies,
would never fail to disguise
the madness lurking behind.
And those pink perfect lips, (ones I still miss
and God! Could they kiss!)
Would never show the serpent tongue.

I’ve forgotten them all.

And its been a while as well
In this cold, cold hell
Been enough and more - anybody’d tell
So then the mention of your name
Should not ring a bell.

Then why show up now?
Why? All these years later, here, now?
And why should I even allow
You
(to waltz) back into my life
With your fangs and your claws
and your claws and your knife
and slow poison my mind
and then stab me from behind
again!
Why You!
who’d start off with the kisses
then fill my world with hisses
then cut me up in pieces
(and feed ‘em to the fishes)
for the joke of it
again!

And you think I’d let you?
Let you do all that? All over again? Really??
Am I that crazy? Really??
Well actually…

Autumn night

Autumn night. Light drizzle, so light that you barely notice it without the light at the door, light meeting the droplets for just a fraction of a second before they come down and rest on the gravels laid out on the path way, much like the way people come in touch with people in busses, trains, poker tables and dinner parties as they go about their day to day comings and goings. Up ahead you see the line of the forest and the thick shadow they cast on the field and then you see the thin strip of moonlight making a clearing in the dark and then you see the barely visible outline of a man, on the moonlit path, obscured by the drizzle and the moonlight and the forest shadow – an outline, clearly out of place, yet strangely befitting with the surreal backdrop. And you get to thinking if you know it from some place, if you’ve just casually passed it by on your way, or seen it standing outside your window, in a dream, or found it walking alongside you on your way back home.

And you get to thinking what it is doing here, on this particular autumn night, on this night with soft moonlight and light drizzle. Then again, where would it if not here?

Think about all the things that were done right and came to nothing. Think about all the wrongs that got you here, now, nowhere at all. Think about the night walks through the city streets, village paths and lonely beeches. Think about the hands shaken, loves made, promises broken and faces forgotten. And then think how little is actually ever forgotten. Think about all the lines, filling up the pages, crowding the mind and clouding the memories. And then think how much of it was actually remembered.

You were not supposed to be here tonight but then again, where would you be? There were so many doors open and so many paths waiting and so many voices calling but then again, were there ever any? There is but one way you could have taken. There is but one place you could have been, tonight.

So that’s what you are, a faint shadow of a man, on a moonlit autumn night, caught between the dark gloom of the forest up ahead and the door closed behind. And you are right where you were supposed to be.