Sunday’s binge drew to an end,
The glare of the screen stopped blaring in the background,
And the tired eyes sought rest and relief.
So with the head on two pillows and a blanket to cover,
With an arm across the torso for comfort,
I slept a dreamless sleep.
I woke up in the middle of the night,
And stayed wide awake for an hour or two.
I reminisced about all those who were once there,
And all those I chose to leave, feet flighty and itchy.
Too warm with no space to breathe,
Too tepid with too much space and no boundaries in sight.
With no poems to fit into the margins of notebooks and no books to read.
With endless rants and unproductive time to keep.
With no time to hum funny songs and no canvas to paint.
I woke up wanting to keep away
From the too warm and too tepid.
I woke up wanting to make time –
To hum the songs and write the poems,
For inked fingers and attempts to read.
For uninhibited dance, to old tunes, behind closed bedroom doors.
To seek vistas that were before unseen,
To unravel, unmindful of another’s stipulation of being.
(The title of the poem is taken from ‘Reflecting Light’ by Sam Phillips)