Thursday, February 2, 2017

Depths, debts

What do I say
that does not offend
or irritate or annoy 
someone, anyone,
somewhere?
My brush paints
a nude, a child,
a god, a goddess,
a pile of rubbish,
torn shoes,
broken limbs
the end of hope,
which offends.
My truth, my being,
what can I say
if not my truth?
The comfort of my 
segregated life
can also offend:
what do I know 
of poverty?
I will speak
my truth, 
as I know it.
Stories of pain,
betrayal,
karmic debts, 
perhaps, that make 
no sense in just
this present life.
Love and jealousy
both abound
untrammelled 
by age and experience
Life, logic, 
a contradiction in terms
wounding the wronged
not the wrong-doer
Who am I  to judge
weakness and compulsions
as wrong doing?
And yet,
those stories sear 
my very soul, 
seeking release 
expression,
villainy and heroism
children bearing 
burdens that weigh
them down
way beyond the 
weight of learning
and school bags
and poor memories
that let us forget
the debts we must repay.....

2 comments:

Aarti said...

oh wow, quite the play on words! loved this one :)

Stumbled here from Agents of Ishq

dipali said...

Thank you, Aarti!