I am checking my spelling
in that tattered lexicon
(yes, when one writes one has to)
when the night manager rings me up
"they are here"
my blood rises up to my ears,
I collect all the papers
throw them into the fire-
feeling so free after so long.
I had been seeking freedom-
from or for what purpose?
(it feels so meaningless now,
but it is not the time to ponder)
I look out of the window
see them hurrying towards me.
scared I trip and fall
landing on my face.
when they arrive there
I am out cold, clutching
scrapes of burnt paper.
someone pokes me with a gun
opening my eyes I see disinterest
they are in no hurry to shoot me.
(but how am to know that?)
words of what I had written
run past me like some prayer.
I hear a gunshot and a scream
they look beyond me
and run into that direction.
taking a cue
(we all need to do that)
I run out from the back exit.
catching my breath
I find myself deep in trash.
wading through it,
I walk out into the street
forcing myself to do it slowly.
if I run, I might not be so lucky
they would shoot me dead
(don't we all know
how the secret police work?)
"now I am so free,
so very free not to seek
that purposeless freedom"
Brilliant. As usual
ReplyDeleteI would DIE without my right to squander my entire life pursuing purposeless freedom!
ReplyDeleteWe don't need a secret police force in Canada because we are all so polite and forthright..a nation of Dudley Do-rights.
Nothing is more important than freedom, even if you think you've got it.
ReplyDeleteLOL, Donn Kopenjz! It's true, it's all true.
ReplyDeleteGautami, I loved all the places you took me in this poem. This image really grabs me:
'scared I trip and fall
landing on my face.
when they arrive there
I am out cold, clutching
scraps of burnt paper.'
Very much enjoyed this :)
ReplyDeleteMy favorite lines:
"I am checking my spelling
in that tattered lexicon"
"words of what I had written
run past me like some prayer"
"so very free not to seek
that purposeless freedom"
yes...to what everyone else has said...good one for sure
ReplyDeleteGautami, I like this. It brought me to the alleys of a city in Russia, the Kremlin going after the writer.
ReplyDeleteSo suspenseful Gautami. Love it. Hope you are well.
ReplyDeletePhew, this sounds like a bad dream, I hope it's not a recurring one!
ReplyDeleteI'm always amazed at the way your mind works.
This has hit me deeply...I remember reading a comment from A Russian concentration camp prisoner who said 'No matter where you are, no matter what you do, You can only be as free as you free your mind of fear' your writing reminded me of him, wish I could remember his name....
ReplyDeleteFreedom does not come cheaply does it. Excellent write Guatami. You are really digging into every area of life with these latest poems - awesome work.
ReplyDeleteThis one was a shocker!
ReplyDeletefreedom is the basic right of anyone
ReplyDeletepowerful writing again which makes me question things we take for granted.
ReplyDeleteclutching scraps of burnt paper...
ReplyDeletei loved this line.
This is packed with tension.
ReplyDeletefascinating...and shocking! I want to believe it's a dream
ReplyDeleteBrutal and beautiful at the same time . . . amazing words.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1697018/never_trust_a_mockingbird_.html