My tears could have filled the cup
And I was smiling as big as the sun
My pupils were growing like a cocoon
And I couldn’t lift my head over the pillow
I was star-struck and I had wandered far…Far enough to be termed as lost
I was absorbed in devour
My breath had shot and I couldn’t feel my lungs anymore
So she asked “You have to build your defenses again”
And suddenly I could see bricks so crimson
As I twirl my fingers over Ivys so fern
The sky was decorated with the brightest azure
And ocean breathed in turquoise
My abode was there…Where I nurtured and grew
Those books, that fireplace at the widest window, Maple wood and my Mont Saint Michel
I was the prince, echoed my footsteps in my fort
All of me ideating as they proceed towards all the escape routes
( I secretly chose not to)
“What is the wall?” She asked “What if not cemented bricks, up over another a never-ending saga”
My shoulders were heavy…As if I got my wings back
And my thoughts are woven like silk I could see the mulberry stiched with viridian green
Van-Gough peeking and glaring back as I stare retrospect
The coffee, The cigarette, The Trial and 1984 in an era unknown
Kafka on the shore and ginger cats allover
“Are my walls orthodox?” “Are they really different?”
I wonder if it’s made of desires and dreams, I question “Is it really made of those myriad little things”
I ponder “Are they just glorified chain and shackles?
“Am I confusing hymn with verses of freedom and revolution”
“Should I call for mutiny?” As I proceed towards the mirror “Isn’t I…The colonel?”
“Are my bridges rooted in a myth of my own reflection or of a mother who has just abandoned me like an unwanted child”
“I’ll always stay in four walls” Finally I accepted
The ones rooted in the white sand beaches and even to the one’s longing for your whispers
I’ll wonder and I’ll settle, maybe for neither of them
For he was arrested one morning without having done anything wrong
I can’t grant you the entry………….. This entrance was meant only for you
By-Kshitij Sinha
10/8/2020