Body

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Body

A Poem

Courtesy Priti Ghosh

My body is a tiny rivulet
Now slowing, now hurrying by a thicket.
Its run hindered by even a pebble,
At merest deviation it does tremble.

My vast network of nerves powering flesh,
Binds all distinct parts like a mesh. 
It feels the passage of another force,
A conquering wave through occult doors.

My bones are scaffold for this living frame,
Mutable shape that persists for a time a name.
Like an axe’s handle it provides the base,
For steel-edge to make its striking case.

My dream-house is now riddled with strangeness,
Whether it is I, mine or another’s I can’t guess.
Dim pronouncements, dimmer visions visit me,
In there is a madness like an Oracle’s eye.

Below there is a base where am too blind,
Only its rumblings colour through till mind,
My habits have withered, instincts not sure,
I relearn what it is to be once more.

My mind is a chamber emptied,
Of all the useful moss it learned. 
It recalls its emissaries on senses’ doors,
Awaits at an occult peak for its parent-force.

Rarely my fiery-guest peers outward,
Lifting my being with a surge upward. 
I then grow content and sweetly submit,
To all aim and gesture it does admit.

Of the Self I must not now speak,
For we lure that light into our body meek.
By our stumbling a little more light to imbibe,
Contain a little more divine for this human tribe.