Durdana Bhat
The loss of words and those blurred lines. I mourn the disappearance of crisp sated in them. But more than anything, I miss the darkness that was filled in it. The darkness that met the heart of spring and was at sea by the winter.
I wrote my own answering heart in them that was echoing on every turn. There was none but averring that answered everything I am. But now lost…
I know, now I can never explain the shades and shadows. Even I never came to know what it was exactly? You know, I never felt like I should understand it. Yet, I was amazed of the certainty that the shadow of my smile dipped into anguish and disappeared. Strangeness; it didn’t truly submit, but still felt blessed to taste the smashes of my fate.
Ask in:
“Tell me, what you penned?”
“To tell you, well, what do I remember?”
“Tell me, weird syntax in your head.”
“What to tell you, speaking words, I never spoke.”
“What? You don’t remember any of it.”
“I regret. Quit.”
The errant storm kept asking many questions. I had no answers. I just tried to evoke imagery, to tell a story but how would I? I have lost the heart of language, the memories of lasting.
The source, which was going to convey faring, lifted the restlessness. The ecstasy realized truth and halted. And then, I chose to go by my own ways, as for my existence. I will accomplish the intoxicated depths.
Now: The words have stopped wandering. Even when I need them to remind me of: where I am going, why I am going, and everything in between.
