The little boy slays dragons and kisses fairies;
the adolescent learns to make stories;
the callow youth, aware of the world,
has no experience;
the man, blinded by the high walls
where light is a sleepwalking memory.

At 28 I am not a callow youth, nor a veteran.
My mind is no longer as wild as the clouds,
or as still as the caged water in a frozen lake.
I am walking ahead in my own awareness,
which is hollow at places, to allow thoughts
to thunder inside and shake me above myself.
Being fed up of walking the tightrope
of barriers, between images and mirages,
I am keeping eyes where mind can focus.

In these years I read about places,
seen cities crumble, names inseminated
in test tubes and sugar cubes,
nourished by blood and consecrated in oil.
Tried to read and comprehend
the holy texts, though a believer
in science and facts, all what I found
were opinions from various powers.
They marketed their gods
in their own interests.

The fair and the weak have suffered.
Some were burnt as Sati and
some veiled for centuries and
some as witches.
In this metallic world
womanhood is fantasized
in steel bras and leather panties;
gloss and veneer traded
to enamel the ever-growing nails
raising the barbarians, Hitlers and Mussolinis.
Those who connived with Goebbels
to secure their futures
are present, even today;
they are unknown to themselves.

Copyright©2005, Debashish Haar, All Rights Reserved