We are us,
Through our senses,
Our perception of realities.
Were you deaf,
You would never know,
The overpowering pain –
Of a grief-stricken wail.
The contagious mirth –
Of cackling laughter.
Were he mute,
He could never really convey,
While empathizing or dissenting,
Even while gazing and smiling –
The significance of sentient silence.
Were she blind,
She could never receive or perceive,
The sudden magic of blue-bells,
The wild red of setting sun,
The winking slant of waning moon,
The subtle shades of a look –
Lust, longing, love, helplessness.
Were I bereft of intuition –
The smothering scent of spring,
The sudden aloneness of a moment,
The studied silence amongst twitters,
The watchful gravity of a gaze,
Would fail to merge…
The slow fear of an unanticipated intimacy,
Would escape me...
And in the wide wingspan of a single point in time,
I would fail to be afraid.
Yes we are us,
Through our senses,
Our versions of realities.
April 24, 2010.
Through our senses,
Our perception of realities.
Were you deaf,
You would never know,
The overpowering pain –
Of a grief-stricken wail.
The contagious mirth –
Of cackling laughter.
Were he mute,
He could never really convey,
While empathizing or dissenting,
Even while gazing and smiling –
The significance of sentient silence.
Were she blind,
She could never receive or perceive,
The sudden magic of blue-bells,
The wild red of setting sun,
The winking slant of waning moon,
The subtle shades of a look –
Lust, longing, love, helplessness.
Were I bereft of intuition –
The smothering scent of spring,
The sudden aloneness of a moment,
The studied silence amongst twitters,
The watchful gravity of a gaze,
Would fail to merge…
The slow fear of an unanticipated intimacy,
Would escape me...
And in the wide wingspan of a single point in time,
I would fail to be afraid.
Yes we are us,
Through our senses,
Our versions of realities.
April 24, 2010.
Our versions of realities.
ReplyDelete! Not so soon enough I wrote a line like,
Truths have versions.
Parallels. Love it.