Comments about Meena Kandasamy
Ours is a silence
that waits. Endlessly waits.
And then, unable to bear it
any further, it breaks into wails.
But not all suppressed reactions
end in our bemoaning the tragedy.
the outward signals
of inward struggles takes colossal forms
And the revolution happens because our dreams explode.
Most of the time:
Aggression is the best kind of trouble-shooting.
At that brief time
When you wait
For the audacious cane
To strike your skin,
And the rest of you is flinching
And cringing, with part shame,
And part pain,
Poetry dictates itself
In your mind. Short lines