Monika Mol MP
Ospyn Technologies Pvt. Ltd
The Whereabouts
I witness stillness - the unbearable part
of existence.
The emptiness is a continent shifting
into my chest.
Moths flutter on monsoon nights.
The grimy electric street lamps spitting
yellow with a gentle flicker.
The pale dying evening light
beckons me-
And says 'pour'.
Pour your mind onto the paper.
What do I write when everything I think of is
a replica of a dismantled human dream?
I pray to the good God and try to
wash the morbid vocabulary.
Tongue, brain and hands - cleansed
with mirth.
Cleaning the dripping ink, I try again/
The theory is raw again.
Let me come back to it when I know the
whereabouts of my own voice.
For now, it is cautiously quiet inside.