"We shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started
and know the place for the first time." (T S Eliot)
"A dark and chanted verse is what I am." (
Forough Farrokhzad)

Tuesday, August 9, 2016

SWORD

My feet fall heavily these days –
Slowed up by sticking to my ways,
Shocked by the times
And halfway crazed,
Walking at dusk,
Hidden by haze.

I should have been those ragged claws
That Prufrock saw
Before world wars,
Scuttling across those ocean floors,
Hard and silent,
Without a cause.
Like him I never ever soared,
I was a mere attendant lord.
He died wriggling
On a pin, gored.
They’ll come for me,
Wielding a sword.

But I hear the songs of magpies
Somewhere up there
In cloudless skies,
Or in a tree –
Leafy disguise.
Compared to me
They seem so wise.


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