Are We Taking Care? #2

Continued

–c–

The spring sun was high in the sky.

The singing of cuckoo could be heard.

The thirty years old, once renowned, poet woke up, she was still heavy at the head.

She looked around and found silence. She drowsily light a cigarette–

And open her blog account to see the reactions to her poem.

She knew, though, there’ll be none; (and) she was right.

She put his cell phone on the bed and then walks to the bathroom.

After an hour of prolonging bath, she came out and dressed in a new attire.

Then she wrote his last poem, and, later smoke a cigarette–last one–

Before taking up the scissors and walking to the bathroom again.

She slashed his wrist, after lighting another cigarette, and dipped it in the cold water.

Her cell phone rang, it was hazy to her. Her vision blurred–slowly and steadily.

And all stop after a bit of time. The cigarette, burned out, remain on her lips.

Are there any reason to lose so easily…are we losing our way to accept the happenings–

As trivial, accepting the wordings like life goes on or storm passed away

Are we taking care of our own…

Dedicated to Sylvia Plath (1932-1963) whose story s’how pushed me to ask self–Are We Taking Care of Our Own (Self).

–d–

He had worked hard–day and night.

He had been skipping meals, ditching everything that needs his time–a little bit.

He always dreamt of to be an emblem of success, to be a good husband, the best dad.

But, at night when he return home, he found there were no chore, no sign of living–

Silence prevail there. He searched every room and called a number few times–

He, though, knew it’ll never get answered. He sat down on the sofa and cried out aloud.

Then he slept down on the sofa–he was hungry, he was tired…

But, there’s no one to look after him ’cause of his dream–

To be an emblem of success, to be a good husband, the best dad.

Next day, the same exercise follows–hard work round the clock–

(And) searching a companion and calling the number.

Are we so lost in chase, or will it be pursuit, of being success–

(That) the rhythm of life has loses its resonance…

Are we becoming so deaf and blind to make miracles happened–

Rejecting the mystical aspects of a miracle…

Are we taking care of our own…

Continued

Painting: Loneliness by Rudolf Brink

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