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(10 Dec 50 / DehraDun, India)

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Are You There?

Did I hear a knock on my soul’s door?
Could be mistaken, my hearing is not good anymore
Or was it just a tired wind which stopped by to rest
Blown away by the storm and was just catching its breath.

Did I see your shimmering shadow on the floor?
Could be, since my eyes and hearing are not good anymore
And if you did come, did you call out my name so softly?
Or play the harp on my hearts strings ever so gently.

That sweet caress with which you brushed my face with those lips
The way, you tugged at my heart with your gentle finger tips
Linger on…

Then why is it that I hesitate, of your presence am not sure?
Was it wishful prescience, an illusion… a thought conjured?

Graced by age that’s what happens when years pile on silently
It happens to all - as time creeps upon us relentlessly?
The dawn turns to dusk & the rainbow grey
Senses dulled - little realizing that
Your sweet music, touch & the caress had never gone away.

Ah! My failing senses, willful delusions had my perception obscured
There couldn’t have been a knock, since I had never shut the door.

Submitted: Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, August 20, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Old age is often accompanied by illusions & delusions...even dementia. The cockiness of youth is replaced by uncertainty. Misperceptions are heightened by degeneration of the five senses. The result...I am not too sure if I know the result.

Comments about this poem (Change The Ruddy Water by Deepak Sawhney )

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  • Deepak Sawhney (10/7/2013 11:20:00 PM)

    Naida, I am really happy to note that you read the poem in such depth. The wind stopping by to catch its breath is metaphorical (that which cannot be taken in the literal sense but has a strong symbolic message) .
    Bless you

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  • Naida Nepascua Supnet (10/7/2013 5:37:00 PM)

    I like the last line
    i could not explain...i like it very much.

    Or was it just a tired wind which stopped by to rest
    Blown away by the storm and was just catching its breath.
    I SMILED IMAGINING THE WIND CATCHING ITS BREATH- VERY ironic, knowing the strength of the wind and catching its breath.
    YOU SEE, not everyone can put words nicely all the time
    but you putting these words together is like catching a scent or catching the moment in a picture.

  • Heather Wilkins (8/26/2013 2:34:00 PM)

    Ah! this is a beautiful poem. skillfully written and I love every thought there couldn't have been a knock since I have never closed the door. (and never will)

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