Tortured Silence

the cars honk
the lights flash
the refuse stinks
the flies hover
the mosquitoes bite

but he does not know
for he is

where the mind is afraid
and the head must not fly

where nothing is free

where the world is fractured and broken by the glory of barriers

where words have forgotten the depth of truth

where tireless defrauding stretches its arms towards perfection

where clear streams of reason are but superfluous and do not lead anywhere

where the mind is led forward – by the overarching ‘me’ – into ever-malevolent thought and action

what a heaven of freedom, my Father, into which my country awakes

[This poem is about an addict lost in a drug-induced slumber full of nightmares. It is largely a modification – gasp – of what is arguably Rabindranath Tagore’s most famous poem. Oh, and the picture is one of my favorite Edward Gorey works.]


4 thoughts on “Tortured Silence

  1. Ahahaha, “where the mind is afraid and the head must not fly” I see what you mean. This (and Runaway Mushroom) are very different from Eight Cantos of Time.. Yet these are beautiful in their own way.

    1. Every one who writes a poem hopes that the person on the other side of the paper will say “I see what you mean”. :D

      Thanks for that!

      PS. Oh, and these poems were written a year back.

  2. Another one of your typical trolls, Soham! I can see what you were thinking while writing these!

    Really a nice one, probably the best among the three, I’m obliged to say.

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