Bistriti Poddar Mehra

Return To My Canvas - Poem by Bistriti Poddar Mehra

Have you ever felt the silence of a storm’s wheeze? Or when peace rants? And even when an acute hysteria frosts? I have traipsed through such creeks and this heart is brimming over with some unfathomable reminiscences.

They ask me often, why do you sound so dark? My breath prances a moment, to take time to ponder, what is it that simmers the volcano within every now and then? I wish I could collect my echoes and make them listen to the screeches that have become a way of life now. My bloody scars couldn’t be traced so far, the tranquility has smudged so, that even bliss has given me fits sometimes!

Pain has tried enough to obliterate my power, my beliefs and my selfdom. The blazing emotions, ripping agony and dithered wrinkles have all stood by, if no one else. My footprints have trail of mature ashes that have found their habitat beneath. My last hope, the prism, also left me dwarfed.

The one thing that I yearned for the most and feared in the same breath bumped right into my soul. The reason that I waited for each sun to wake me up, has faded for a lifetime. And I got down registering yet another suffering episode that commenced on a good note! Some whispers, some caresses, and some unsung rhythms leftover. I share my melancholy with rotten window panes, silent streets, doomed mayhem and cascading rains.

But, just when I thought I would succumb to my bruises, for finally my shrunk heart was ready to surrender, for once I looked back! Just to realize a beggar’s hand in prayer for me whom I comforted when the world slept in apathy, and a bereaved heart whom I sedated in peace.

Then I looked up at the infinite sky, for my angels were smiling at me, saying “your goodness was in dark, when only the Father in heaven was awake, you are one of those beloved suffered hearts, who has been touched by Divinity. If you don’t suffer, who else would embrace and inspire the worn out, the desolated, the one in forever agony, the one hopeless, the one seeking shelter? You were written beyond the world’s doctrines and hence you are too special to be touched by the world!

And suddenly the alarm bell rang up, and with a silent smile on my face, realizing my purpose of life, I woke up to tread those lanes where no mundane walks, but only extraordinary dwells.

I found my reason, what is yours?

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Poem Edited: Tuesday, May 10, 2011

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