A man died on the road
His eyes were like the clamoring of glasses,
as if a thunder storm has just been conquered.
A mad man nearby sat and draw diary of death
As if time is posing nude in the street.
When his face was turned
I found a strange similarity
We both were travelers
He is gone
I still walk.
But who shall reach whom?
If life is a quote within apostrophes
of time, where is death and the age before my birth?
what about the portrait on a canvass of madness?
I have put up myself
Looking for something deeper and something dense
either may be another human or a forest
at best my own reflection in a lake.
The yearnings of heart and soul
The desires that burn or put off the fire
on the opposite road with a milestone of water.
and punctuation tries to envelope me.
I must find but the similarity,
that I have seen in death and me
And thus invite life
For neither the exploration can be forgiven
nor is there any mimicry for this fire.
Where shall I go and where I come from
I must know.
The lap of this knowing is not an alternative to worshipping.
The debate with God must be fair.
And the rules are to be applied to both the contestants.
And this medal won't be shared.
Many often I and you look for something
We leave no secrets unveiled.
But at the end so it happens
we find it in our own pockets.
I very well know my secrets are not beyond me
Even though I go on searching
The last stoppage will be a known neighborhood.
In the mask of an exile.
Aman Saa's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (exile essay by Aman Saa )
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