(This is post is entirely inspired by Arjun, the First Born, my caregiver (along with my parents and Chandrika), who insisted I had to be inspired by my forced inactivity, or rather my debilitating condition (lol), to write something with this title. His wish had come to be assayed thus :P. Happily enough, it is being typed out on his laptop. )
These many days, past,
Prone, unmoving, almost
Enveloped in a fine mist of pain
I never saw
The patches on the ceiling.
They smoothened in a blur
As I lay on my back
And looked, eyes
Distant with the discomfort
That grew to be a part of me.
I felt, almost proudly, I now wonder,
In retrospect, my whole self
Neatly accomodating to pain.
And how I never demurred, protested
At its intensity. Vain, I certainly am!
Yet now, forced out of this
painful, accomodating complacency,
I sometimes writhe, hurting,
Crossing new thresholds of recovery...
The blur fades, focus sharpens
And I see the ceiling for what it is.
So like me.
Uneven, faint scars of reworked plastering.
Stretches smoothened, especially around corners...
And the patches, Oh yes-
Each one, clear, takng shapes
That make me smile.
And one, that stands out, distinct.
An ode, a toast perhaps
To a certain denizen of the region.
Long, slim, tapered at one end
Softly triangulared at the other
The entire length, pockmarked
With tiny peeling whorls of pain(t)
A shape bubbled out, by the damp.
So like my familiar friend, who visits
Each dusk, as the lamp lights,
To haunt my twilight wall. Our gecko!
And now, you know, I'm glad
I see, and know, those patches on the wall!
5 October, 2011
These many days, past,
Prone, unmoving, almost
Enveloped in a fine mist of pain
I never saw
The patches on the ceiling.
They smoothened in a blur
As I lay on my back
And looked, eyes
Distant with the discomfort
That grew to be a part of me.
I felt, almost proudly, I now wonder,
In retrospect, my whole self
Neatly accomodating to pain.
And how I never demurred, protested
At its intensity. Vain, I certainly am!
Yet now, forced out of this
painful, accomodating complacency,
I sometimes writhe, hurting,
Crossing new thresholds of recovery...
The blur fades, focus sharpens
And I see the ceiling for what it is.
So like me.
Uneven, faint scars of reworked plastering.
Stretches smoothened, especially around corners...
And the patches, Oh yes-
Each one, clear, takng shapes
That make me smile.
And one, that stands out, distinct.
An ode, a toast perhaps
To a certain denizen of the region.
Long, slim, tapered at one end
Softly triangulared at the other
The entire length, pockmarked
With tiny peeling whorls of pain(t)
A shape bubbled out, by the damp.
So like my familiar friend, who visits
Each dusk, as the lamp lights,
To haunt my twilight wall. Our gecko!
And now, you know, I'm glad
I see, and know, those patches on the wall!
5 October, 2011
Didn't know there was so much to the 'Face on the wall';
ReplyDeleteand what of the pain, am I missing anything at all?
To be alright soon pray I shall
to get up and give us more verses that enthral.
Take care!! How are you?
ReplyDeleteHey.... hope you are feeling better..Nice one.. Yes, the wall is something you never notice unless you are confined to a bed..(Long time ago, I wrote a story about a lizard's life when I was in bed.. he he)
ReplyDeleteGovind, there is much to each of those faces, on the wall :)! And the pain? Oh, just a relapse, of an old disc problem, that flared up again. Thank you for the prayers, and the kindness of your words for the writes, again, here :)
ReplyDeleteIHM, thank you for the wishes. Am doing much better now.
Suntha, I must read yours too, when I am in a better shape than now :) Oh yes, walls are taken for granted, till you realize how much company they are, and what stories they can tell! Thank you for the visit. You takare too!
The pen that writes is never at rest I guess. It picks the walls too for stories. That's what the paint peeling could be. Very nice poem. I liked it.
ReplyDeleteTrinath, more than the pen, it is the joblessness, I think, on the part of the rambler here :) Thank you for the grace of your words!
ReplyDelete