I take a fork and dig the hard rock
I want to feel the veins in my neck bulge
As I dig, bleed, and make furrows on the ground.
I want to hear the scraping of metal against stone.
Between memory and forgetting
On a tightrope between memory
And not remembering
I place one careful step forward
I can’t but look ahead
Placed on both my shoulders are the dead.
I can’t run, my knees don’t work
The stone, won’t flinch
The ground, it smirks.
I watch the fork bow against the unbending earth.
Between memory and forgetting
On a tightrope between memory
And not remembering
I take another step.
It’s ok, I tell the voice in my head
The fire is your breath,
Don’t look back, dont shift to your side
Keep up the tightrope walking.
The chasm isn’t right.
The rainbow hues that colour me
Psychedelic
This madness that keeps me sane
The hair that I want to pluck from my scalp
The bitten nails that are my bane
I don’t know what i want to do.
Do you, do you?
Between memories and forgetting
On a tightrope between memory
And not remembering
I know I have to get back to the living
I’ll return the fork to the stand
We’ll eat together
One bended fork, one unbended
And
I’ll hold on to saneness
that pacifies me less and less.
~ (c) Vinitha
Revised April 25, twenty-five crazy days of writing poetry. Nisha Nair Gupta thank you for today’s prompt.
