Silent Partners: Fleshless Solitude



‘Solitude’. Picture courtesy:


Note for the readers: This is a poem I had written nearly 14 years back, with a young, unrestrained mind. Fresh from the University, my head was brimming with poetic lines, and the emotions were delicate, honest, but raw, unbridled and devoid of precision. I remember I had put a lot of long elipses, periods and also long hyphens in between the lines, and looking at them now, I thought them awkward and odd. With a little bit of editing, this is what the poem looks like in its present state. 


Midnight and myself, two silent partners speaking to each other,
Clutching at each other in sensuous extremity.

One says another: “How do we speak out, each time, in silent warmth?” 

The other hisses, ”In keen memory, we have stored our silences like mistresses! 
We adore them in shady depths of secrecy.

They never ask for 

Lucid exclusiveness of speech.” 

A knock on the door, Secrets enter. undress quietly before the mirror 

Of time, or…infinitude…

The skull contains them all,
Love lost in crooked, restless flight
Flesh and bone struggling with myths of light.
The inner and outer storms migrated to suppression,

In the “living” without “life”!

And now, they fill the room with voices and presence, 
None can see, nor hear at all.

With wordless mouths, then, let us plunge into unspeakable depths
Never explored by spoken truths, or spoken impostures.
Let us write, with inkless pens, the wordless history 
Of strained breasts and crisped fingers: 

Midnight and Myself,
Two silent partners will carry 
Secret breaths and unspoken histories 
To the fleshless depths of solitude.

Silence, we have the key to unlock thy gates,
Now, let us plunge into thee.

Bye Bye Midnight



In the wee hours of midnight,

My limp and frail body

Looks at the clock ticking on the wall,

While it surrenders 

To the golden sunshine of another day. 

I sit downstairs, alone with the midnight clock

And the unborn angel in my belly,

Listen to the rocking and weeping

And lullabies of my older angel upstairs.

Groping in the darkness of the room

I listen to her, smell the autumn air

As she breaks in sobs and unknown delight 

Clinging to her papa and her midnight dreams. 

One foot already in the sand of sleep, 

One at the edge of waiting,

I sit downstairs, feeling the wind and water

Of an unread poem by my muse,

Echoing my name in midnight chill. 

Nestled in a heaven of unspoken words and journeys

I sit here in my room, alone with midnight

With the rising wind sighing outside window panes.

I sit here, while dawn breaks out, 

My sleeping world rushes downstairs

Together we breathe the pure morning air. 

Till then, I bid adieu to the midnight clock

Ticking on the wall,

I lay down on the brink of another life

Smelling its wind and water in distant dreams. 

I bid adieu till I rise like a phoenix again. 

I’m all burnt out in the midnight chill,

Till I rise again in smoke and fire

Of the sunshine of another day. 

Footnotes: Just a passing thought, mostly in fragments of a jumbled up, narcotic mind which stayed awake like a nocturnal animal well past midnight. Written during fall 2010, when I was late into my second pregnancy, already a mother of our two year old daughter.