To The Miraculous Kiss (A Poem)

1.kiss the memory

There is ancient water in this house
Next to simple hunger

I touched the water in the rise and fall of simple sounds beside human sin and virtue

By being th collection of water

Unorganized, I merged in that water

Sometimes mother used to sing

The melodies of past births across the sky

A soft voice spread around

In that tune would have blossomed

The scent of many dewy flowers

Little by little our emptiness was filled

Every evening father used to come back home

The dark sweats of the body were spread by horizons 

Mother then with withered hands 

Taught the night some art embroidery

And next to easy rhyme books 

Sitting quietly made me understand - 

A means we

B means barring darkness

My mother since morning

Used to wait for his father in the evening.

And father at noon, went out to look for clouds. 

He kept getting smaller and smaller in his dry and cracked body.....

Now there is a whole cloud in these memories ..... telling the stories of those wonderful days and nights ....

A small brass plate and a glass mother gives some sweet and water to it. And chanting Lakshmi's Panchali

I am calm next door. I am sitting and watching

The sky is coming down little by little in our broken house - coming in with mother's soft voice

Two incense sticks are burning innocently near this scene.

The darkness danced.

The faint light of the kerosene lamp in the mother's hand.

Standing by the tubewell, father is washing away the day's dust, thirst in that light.

How the two wonders of the world are becoming the longest.....

Never to be touched again.

Even the touch

Within him is the great mortality

The world is like pain and soreness

Is telling me this 

Giving me the memory of that touch

Deeper and deeper immersion. 

All wonderful memories are dense beside the soft lamp

The dark path becomes thick, the dark path touches the light of the lamp

I will never walk again

At this time with the feeling of spreading rice I have to walk. But how far?

Only the lacrimal gland surrounds all our insecurities.

Relevant words like hospital cotton

My body is filling up with them.

Memories could be so poisonous 

I didn't understand. 

Touching the ruined household 

Some told the story of cursed God to mother today.

Hearing the silence, mother's vermilion-headed Lakshmi's pot was filled with irreligious blood.

You seem like an ancient fatigue

It seems that evening has come somewhere...

So close to that gloomy darkness, how bewildered I am losing all the letters.....

Even if you close your eyes

Water remains inside the eye.

Strange mosses play. dead sand.

There is the body of God, like a dead oyster is salted

Lately, when writing poetry, broken oysters come up in both hands.

By writing the word 'memory'

I saw a nearby patient commit suicide and his mother ran towards the sound of oblivion. Writing the word 'kiss' brings a lost lover to my blood.

I saw the dustbin kicking. O God nurse, this time inject the words, kiss the memory 

In my blood.