Identify this darkroom
The pictures can tell history.
Fingers touching it, brushing it
tremble by an unexplained agony;
as if sun is going to set
amid a dense forest
and he has lost his doggie.
He let his fingers mop the photograph;
carefully unhinge
from an album
of the days now only echoing.
He touches the echo;
it breaks into more echoes, -
cheerless, sad, broken echoes.
And the hidden heads of Medusa linger.
The photograph is the door
to his past and for coming back.
He stands up.
It is time to burn it.
Fire eats away fire.
He closes the door
himself remains there;
in a place smeared with own blood
and things that might not have happened
had he studied ifs and buts.
It was all there. Trapped into the picture.
Now picture is a nonbeing
only he remains. Caged.
© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar


Comments: 49
Blessings and best wishes - S.
10 4 u
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I was left feeling as though you're character was making a conscious decision to seal the tomb from inside. To give up the grueling effort of moving through the nightmare and remain rooted in remorse, a choice option for the exhausted soul and one that serves for a time.
The writing is a definite teaser asking the reader to wait for more. Perhaps part of a series in a nonlinear evolution of soul.
Thanks for posting to my group, Anythingwriting
Since I’m in the middle of Finals week, I hate to admit, but I must give in to the temptation of leaving a generic comment
But to give it a little personal touch, I added some artwork for you to enjoy!
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Thanks for posting in Journey Into Poetry !
This is beautiful.
Thanks for posting on Getting to 3000 Together