A Run Through The Fire
Feet hurt while chasing tears on a street of fire.
I know, still the lady is waiting for me there,
at the beach beside the blue of the sky reflecting
on an ocean. I know she will be waiting
the way my father once surmised. The way his father
had once run on this street, fire grabbing his weary,
tired, benumbed feet.
I can see the bend of the road, enveloped with mist,
the barren trees and the fishing nets like the metaphors
of life, of things we are into, of chasing dreams
which causes tears and tears, of the castles
built for the brides who have never waited to live
inside…
Still I run as fast as I can, panting, gasping
for a mermaid is waiting; she has always been.
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
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Comments: 49
A 'Boss' well done
Have a Great & powerful day W/J!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
10 4 u
Have a fantastic day.. =)
Blessings and best wishes - S.
I read this last night, before slipping off into the sea of sleep, and again upon resurfacing. I'm sitting here in the sunshine drying my hair and mulling over your weaving. I chose to close my eyes while scrolling past the other fine comments, so I might give you my own response, as if one to one. This writing is so loaded with metaphor, and questions beautifully laid on the beach, tidal treasures. I really can only just keep coming back to it, a place to play and explore. And I will.
Thank you
I see the mermaid more as a comfort, undemanding.
10 for you!
lead us into pursuits that do not yield the pleasure
sought.Your poem captures the intensity of the
generational inheritance of quest for fulfillment.