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Remorse




I am underneath a mountain of deeds,
heavy and with grime it is,
insects teetering  on it with their antlers held high.

There is a little gleam of the jubiliant sun,
hard on the plains, but never seeming to look at me.
ever glowing like the fireball of faith.

Not able to put down the mountain,
Not able to enjoy the sun, I am,
Not able to rid the insects that scurry into me.

As time passes by,
the mountain arches high,
burdening me down into the earthen plains.

The beings I meet,
heap more trash onto it,
they ride down with their valleys, after a maniacal laugh.

they riot into my life,
plunging deep into me,
bringing the thousand insects in me into light.

while their's crawl right onto their faces.
The song-like breeze riding gently on the plains,
pat me to a smile, dampening my woes.

While I plunder into my thoughts,
beseeching for the lost memory in time,
I find nothingness, sheer nullity.

My happiness is lost in mere faith of seeing light,
the beings expounding my crime,
in deploy, against me.

I am thrashed behind rusted bars,
in company with more insects and their possessors,
while their insects ride onto me, slithering into my woes.

I implore to the almighty, the forgiving child in heaven,
to be rid of my bloodied robes, to have clean hands,
while he sits there serenely devoid of my pleads.

Tears brim in my eyes,
flowing unto my cheek, penetrating my wounds,
while I find a new savior in me, remorse.

- A convict behind bars





Comments

  1. I think of Afzal Guru as I read this. Powerful piece. Gayathree you do a great job of expressing the untold grief.

    Joy always,
    Susan

    ReplyDelete
  2. Its not just for convicts I guess. Anybody who cannot come to peace with the past deeds may relate to this. You have a way with words Gayathree! Keep em coming :-).

    ReplyDelete
  3. oh my goodness...so intense...and real as well...if only they could all find the freedom that comes in finding remorse...and then on the backside forgiveness...

    ReplyDelete
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    2. :) Remorse at least brings peace to our conscience ridding them of guilt.. Thank you for reading Brian Miller :)

      Delete
  4. oh heck...tight emotional write...esp. the image of being thrashed behind rusted bars with all the insects...and i second what bri says about remorse and forgiveness

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What writing means to me...

As lonely as a cloud, as boring as boredom itself, I was. I grew up as a typical child at school but a very hefty one, I am still the same. I managed to cheer people with my innocence but did not manage to make happy friends to last a lifetime because of my gross physique. I couldn't play as I had no playmates at home and my only hobby was to sit and watch tv.

When I was studying in kindergarten, I used to visit a nearby shop with my dad. My dad was busy shopping for groceries and I engaged myself in observing things around me. The people who had mixed emotions that outshone on their faces, an old man cycling with a lot of strain, probably getting back home, the lady vendor with her dirty saree pinned up to her waist and squatting on the floor, selling vegetables, the autowala bargaining with his potential customer, the green trees which arched high with its countless leaves, the flowers that smile at me on the road side, happy child…