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| Nandini Sahu |
Fluency in Silence
You pronounce the poetic lines in absentia
I am just the amanuensis to write your poems.
You call me ‘word-wizard’, but you are the art of wizardry.
The moon may teach you, it’s fine to go through phases.
And the sun says, no matter how many times
you go downcast, keep rising in the sundry.
One has to consider the kind of silence one follows.
If you don’t understand my silence, how do you claim
to understand my words who are free birds that fly?
Silence is to the spirit what sleep is to the body.
Silence is healing. Right tongue comes out of silence
and right silence comes out of speech, you know why?
Silence is an ocean, speech is a river.
Meaningful silence is juxtaposed with hollow words.
Silence is the language to encounter divine.
Love, my silence is better than proving a point at this point.
The quieter I become, the better you can hear.
My fluency in silence can sort out our subsists.
In any case, you must win, I prefer to lose.
If you win, you are the conqueror; if you lose, you still are the
captor.
In any case, my love, you win, silence wins.
***
Filling the Molecules
Loving
him is inhaling a thousand roses in spring
knowing
tomorrow the air will be unfeelingly untaken.
It’s
like enjoying a poem
or like
swaying with the harmony of a song.
While
filling the molecules with blossoms.
And
marvelling at the symmetrical flocking
of
birds of a feather
and the
glory of a ladybird
caught
on his camera at dawn.
Like an
inconceivable sense of sorrow
wishing
to weep quietly
are the
countable-uncountable moments
of such
a love.
Alternating
between enticing and exasperating
alternating
between euphony
and
cacophony
the
words turn into a
hollow
boom.
Of such
a love.
I just
want
During
the moments restless and restive
to
fathom his secrets
and
know
if
there’s a ludicrous yearning,
a
cyclone raged in his heart too,
A
grief-soaked love
echoing
mine
of such
a love.
Or,
it’s just an agenda
of
love?
Or is
it, alternatively, a
mind
immersed in meditation,
likewise?
Carrying
a volcano in the heart
of a
mind roaming in some desert?
For me,
love doesn’t mean alms or empathy.
It’s
moderately an absolute surrender.
‘Take it all.’
Like an
offering in a shrine.
On the
altar.
‘The whole thing please!
Leaves, buds, flowers and all.’
There
hasn’t been another
loner
in the world
who
looks for life, filling the molecules.
Who
wants to fly and dissolve
in the
lonely void of darkness
of such
a love.
A
module of easy-torment, this love.
A
stubborn assessment, such a love!
Pain
and contentment underscored, ah love!
Underscored
with double thick lines, here and there, this love.
Aware
of all upheavals of the world, such a love.
Touching
the mysteries of life, ah love!
Believing
that pain purifies all, this love.
Thinking,
pain too is a gain, such a love.
Such
incredible a love.
In fact
it’s so incredible a vision! Unambiguously
no
parallel between a life of love
and
other lives.
Neither
one can emulate it either
and
nonchalantly move.
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