The Sawdust Is Flying Poem by Rafiq Sandeelvi
The Sawdust Is Flying
Sparks flicker
In wet eyes
Flashing shadows crawl
In the hallway
The sawdust is flying
An oxygen tube
Affixed to the nostril
Corner of the lip smeared in saliva
Persistent hiccup
Permanent stupor
My present is severed from my absent
How should I tell what happened
Ages ago, our path was the same
In the bag, lunch prepared by mother
Books and satchel
Were the same
In the chinks of rafters
Sparrows dwelled with us
Our chirps were shared
The same clothes from the tailor
The same shoes
We bathed together in the drizzle
When the night came
We listened to the same stories
Water in the pitcher
Under the umbrella of the tree
Star-adorned sky
Aroma from the pot
And the blood in the veins
In short, our dream-world was the same
We were each others’ present and absent
We were twins
There wasn’t any duality
Organs and elements
Chest was joined with the chest
Heart with heart
Forehead with forehead
What to tell
How the spark leapt out of the wire
How the banks abandoned the river
How the thread snapped from the spindle
How the dreams on the headrest were swapped
Which turn the stairs took
What was that luggage
That the heart was ready to dump
But the back would not bend under whose weight
What was that pain
Whose shadows wanted to break free
From the shackles of being and manifestation
What should I tell
Of the fog that covered both sides of the wall
When the time placed us on the iron-plank
And plied the saw
And bisected us
From that day on
The sawdust is flying
From the dried stump
From rafters of the roof
From the books and dreams
The sawdust is flying
My present is severed from my absent
Every moment is a tooth of the saw in life, slowly separating the closest of friends and brothers. I have to give this one a Ten, very touching!
A well-penned, poignant and thought-provoking write on the harsh realities of life over which we have no control.
amazing, you write so beautifully and with so much skill. you write what is real, about the hardships of life and the pain that is felt. i am in awe. :)
it is incredibl, and phenomenal, you must have took a great pain in writing such a lengthy piece, keep it up.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 12:38:43 AM # 1.0.0.1119
My highest respect to you and your magnificant style. My point of view concerning 'The Sawdust Is Flying' was an profound reality of a dying person reflecting and sharing the experience in a way that would be from those who have experienced a near death event...... However, I must say that during this reading my higher echelon of cognitions seemed to not kick in and give you the most worthy feedback you deserve.... In other words... 'I'm a bit tired tonight'..... But wanted to read your art anyway........ Sorry if I let you down....... Jim Troy