The Passion Poem by Gargi Mandal

Each eye
envisions
an ending
enemy
to the other.

One tragic,
one comic
but both
brilliantly bitter
with
epic evasion.

(I lead a dual life.)

Every time we meet,
my eyes greet you
with
the resolve
not to retreat
this once.
And yet,
even this desire
is ephemeral
like we.

You will go,
I know,
across the sea,
far from me
and
my hypocrisy.

And there will only be
my words…..
e-mail, sms, snail mail,
all,
all shall fail,
pale,
palpably quail,
before the burden
of nailing you
to this,
my cross


of confession.

(How much you mean to me.)

this terrible night of truth,
I shall
resurrect
ruthless
the reason
why I fear to reveal
my core.

I could not bear
now or before
the risk
of the uproar
consequent
on your rejection,
festering sore
in
a prudent,
perennially punishing
prison of pride.

And yet,
having to live on
heartless,
Unhealed,
The martyr
of a man.


My eyes prefer an open ending
to my story,
like all yours –

We, women.