So Acute Was My Loneliness
Cobbled stones, not dust.
So acute was my loneliness that dream I must.
Escapism was a flight from dreary realism.
If roam I must, if chains I must break
Alone, in this pebble-strewn destiny
My happiness I must fake.
So acute was my loneliness that home was far
Too far; too far and distant my loved ones and my thoughts
That in that black cosmic wilderness even the North Star
Seemed close enough to touch. That even my words
Seemed transparent and tinted with Orientalism;
So distant and cold, so empty my worlds.
So acute was my loneliness even the poems would not come
The words fled, the streets wet, a spectre I had become
My memories tinged with the bitter things I had done.
All alone. When dawns touched my lids after fitful sleep
I had resolved never, never to weep
However deep the pain. However acute the pain
The sun would shine tomorrow and I would become myself again.
Copyright: Rani Turton
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