The forest stream grumbles as the big rock
Makes it swerve sharply to the right
But is relieved that around the bend
It can flow freely again.
It swirls; over the sand bed the stream made
Where I lie in total stupor
The stream gurgles happily over the little stones and rocks
That cradles me like a foetus in its womb.
I lie, floating, watching my toes peeking out of the water
And my nose, like a periscope
This bloated corpulence slapped
Gently by the ripples of the water.
The sun is clouded out for the moment
I close my eyes in bliss
All I hear are the chuckle of the stream
And the chirping of the Wagtail.
It was the time of goodbyes to the past
And all the pain is taken away by the stream.
I realize I will never again write poems
On love and the pain of losing it
Because the current has taken all that away
As little fish nibble at my heart
Cleansing it of pus and blood.
The sun turns up again
I turn over, and holding breath
Look at the pebbles beneath.
Though the water is clear
The river bed is blurred
I am unable to see
But I will, I will
I will see it sharply, clearly, one day.
******************* Balachandran, Kallar, 10.03.2009