i want neither to know nor remember
the syncopated memories
of impish demons waking me at 3.00 am,
only to demand a dowry for me to live or
to go on living without living.
it is when the invisible converse without words,
when the unknowable become known,
when all is heard without hearing,
when teardrops soak up the mysteries of viscous shadows,
disappearing like the synchronized flight of myriad birds
that somehow find their nesting grounds,
far away from the misery of winter left behind.
and, in the stillness, i ask: what is it that i regret most?
the thought of wanting all that i never had the courage to ask or try,
and, knowing that one cannot love another fully, ever!
awake, i find the pain of not knowing had rolled its blanket of darkness
and retreated to the mountain to use its peak as a pillow.
the cheerful sun warms the heart ever so gently as it passes by
but the yearnings demons left behind remain unsaid, unheard, unsatisfied, unattainable –
like the unseen mirth of a distant star
wrapped in its own enigma and unawake to the struggles of here and now.
Sydney, June 2011
Copyright © Gopall Naiir