Aida Santos

Manila, Philippines
Thursday, July 17, 2008

Notes On Pain

between us
a wounded silence
of pain, torturous
across the room
endless horizon
of invisibility
studied distances -

your eyes
gaze furtively
i catch them
and quickly
you turn away

i sit transfixed
feverishly nursing
a throbbing head
you swing and fling
arms and voice
above the rest
of the dancers moving
to the rock music
of a rained-in party.

i do not know anymore
how to read
eyes, motions
of protection.
i do not know anymore
how to shed layers
of pretensions.

women, feminists say
do not make each other
enemies, after the phase
of loving and sharing
warm beds and starlit nights
both feel the same pain
but patriarchy
is such a good mentor
and we have been
good students.

the moon with an iris
hallowed in the skies
a pastel hue of blue
and misty grey
we held hands
chemistry does not lie
and then the next day
you said, there is
nothing between us.
i look at my hands
feel the gripping ghost
of your touch.

do not touch my forehead
in the despair
of a stress-produced
headache, your touch
is like an enemy
stalking through the dark
and when i light
my heart, you shoot
your arrow
right into my death

a friend had said
intuition is woman’s best guide:
feel our hearts
i thought i felt something
more than a friendly touch
and my friend will
never lie
and i do not.

where is the politics
in all this?
my wounded heart
learns again
the essence of struggle
this time, my fears
my own enemy
Aida Santos
Shagun Khera 18 July 2008
very nice work.. practical poetry is what this is...true emotions....very true! !
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