Tuesday, July 12, 2005


You would anticipate peace
But then, what happens?
Silent screams of the dawn,
Then low morning moans
That rise to wails of torment
As the nightmare deepens
And merges with the darkness.

Then you decide
To silence demented demons
With a chorus of your cries;
A howling, from which you
Would never wake.
And though the sun
Stalks you like a raving psychotic
You only see
Shadows chasing you.

Through all this you try
To pick the shards of your sanity
Searching for the memory
Of your completeness in mirrors,
Always praying they don’t disappear,
Or you don’t break them.

When dreams go gray,
Doors remain locked, and drums pound
In your head,
You pace up and down
Like a caged animal,
Trying desperately hard to forget
A time when you thought
That drum beats were music
And you once held the keys to all doors
That open into a blue sky.



"Searching for the memory of your completeness in mirrors..." Some absolutely splendid lines here, N.A.! A MAGNIFICENT poem!

Pragya said...

Truly magnificent!

midinmid said...

Well, I need to start with asking for a forgiveness for intruding. Means your nightmare, not your poem on the blog. I wish I had the real competence of doing that. You do your poems inflict upon me a sense of injury/humiliation/inferiority/incorrectness of being/goodness! and so many other things, absence of desire or ambition or even a simple wish to conquer the so-much and so-thoroughly despised yet so naturally and unqestioningly succumbing to incompleteness and inadequacies and love to selfpity in the end.