Tuesday, 16 November 2010

On heartaches and faults

I.

It wasn’t his fault,

Nor was it mine;

And yet guilt hangs around us all the time

Like mist in Coorg,

Or Nainital.

We met one day and parted

with such a deep wound in hearts

that it tore them to shreds,

Like an enlarging tear on clothes.

II.

I lied to him

That I was a virgin.

You are the first to touch me, I said,

And he hugged me in delight,

Slowly sliding his hands up my skirt.

I did not flinch.

He immediately withdrew.

No. you’re not a virgin.

You’ve seen men before.

I don’t want you, he said,

And moved to the next girl in the line.

III.

My heart ached, and the sun smiled at me.

My heart ached, and the sun said goodbye across the sea.

My heart ached, and the moon turned bright and round.

My heart ached, and the moon blackened its visage in grief.

My heart ached, and the winds sang to me.

My heart ached, and the winds roared at my window.

My heart ached, and the dust rose up in a cheer.

My heart ached, and the rain invited me for a dance.

My heart ached… and Mother Nature said, Move On, child.

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