Flawless
Posted: January 31, 2022 Filed under: Poem, Poetry | Tags: Death of My Father, Friedrich Schiller, He asks me to die with him, Jibanananda Das, Life Death Art, Perfection in Art Leave a commentAll my life I wished to be flawless.
Like Schiller was flawless,
like Das was.
When father died
I hid in a room,
wrote a poem.
Mother wept
till dawn.
Then I slept.
After life’s magic
act was over,
a man from the crematorium
came with a long van
to push
open the doors.
He found,
bare bodied —
laid in the morning —
two men in two different
rooms. Dreamless,
but without a flaw.
(The poem was first published on the nether Quarterly website. Here is the link: https://netherquarterly.files.wordpress.com/2021/03/nether2-3msupload-3.pdf , page 43 )
arunparia 