আঠারো

Eighteenth Poem

(For Mr. Charuchandra Bhattacharya, in devoted friendship).

Do we ever desire end of abjection?

Grief gratifies us, brings us pride.

That our deepest distress won't embody the eternal

Is discomforting

Denting our dignity in pain.

Life expends saved bits of being

Scattering existence on the trails of forever time

The wheels of time flattening, fading

Traces of deepest despair.

Deaths of our dearest

Demanding memory, whispering, "remember always."

Life's demands are unaccounted however

Clamoring, closing in on all directions.

In the crowd of now

Past's needs could be imperceptible,

Now and then

Words rise to the surface of disappearing pain

Dignity of sorrow takes pride in privation

Tells off life's emissaries, refuses admission

Fields of consciousness rife with fascinating fertility

With sullen pain, entrenched in the middle

Fortified, deserted, in silent unyielding mutiny

Tallying death and dying in mute indignation.

Self-defeated, but defiant

Unable, to bury the mind

To let go of a deep fetish

Fixated on desolation.

Much like the desire to rule, possess, be known

Deeper still, the desire

To command dark, undisturbed realms of pain.