The mute appeal of her cry
Would never reach his ear
Would he perhaps, yet, open that eye?
He may, perchance, happen upon
His own tragedy, in her cry.
She stood that distance away
Measuring the miles of silence
That grew each day;
Wishing with all her heart
They could traverse its
Deceitful, beckoning charm.
Silence, that evoked
A hundred different tunes
Of losing, of hoping,
Of being bewitched
So true, that she almost gasped.
Did he hear that?
Was he listening?
She hoped, she so hoped
With all her heart
He wasn’t.
That silence was her sentinel.
Nothing, ever, should lay
Open, her vulnerable heart.
Her eyes drew back their touch.
And her voice no longer
Coloured the trails, the wisps
Of their togetherness.
She walked, alone, proud.
She became her silence.
She became that sentinel.
7 August, 2013
August 8, 2013 at 12:14 am
I do not know why, but from the word go, i felt like this was written for me. Like I am the she. Like in reply to my soliloquy. 🙂 I know with all my intellect that it is not, still I am glad of that feeling..
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August 20, 2013 at 10:30 pm
Vandana, thank you for having delved so deeply. And for finding a connect with this one!
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August 8, 2013 at 1:50 am
There was so much feeling in that verse. I can almost see “her” and feel that silence.
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August 20, 2013 at 10:31 pm
Sunitha, thank you!
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August 8, 2013 at 11:56 am
This gives me a queer sense of deja vu and I have no clue why. Something about the verse is very, very poignant.
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August 20, 2013 at 10:32 pm
Thank you Deboshree… I am not sure how the write came to be, because like most of the writes here, it constructs and defines itself 🙂
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August 15, 2013 at 7:32 pm
This seemed to come from a place very close to the heart. Sad and poignant.
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August 20, 2013 at 10:32 pm
Thank you Aayushi.
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