Darkly, but Darkly
©June 5, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
I am here, and yet
I am not. I exist somewhere.
You look at me,
Eyes opaque with layers
Of expectation, with preconceptions
Which pull like weights,
With ghosts that float upwards
From the wishes of others
Crowding around behind
Your gaze, hot and oppressive,
Dark, without stars.
What do you see?
Why this mockery?
Why this scorn and laughter?
Why the curled lip, the sneer?
Why this disrespect, this
Lack of courtesy?
Am I there for you
As a person, a teacher, a woman
A girl, a child, a student?
I am here, and I have been torn
From the womb of a richly
Happy, pregnant universe
That hummed to me
And lulled me to sleep
As I was being rocked within
Her spiral galazies.
In your gaze, here now,
I am reduced to a thing
A person who simply stands
In your way, speaking words
That ring hollow and meaningless,
While you chew on your gum,
Mindlessly playing with
A trivial toy.
In your gaze,
Am I narrow and tall
Or short and dark and wide
Like a spinning earth,
Whose equator grows,
And whose poles get flattened,
And whose gravity deepens
With time?
What do you want from me?
What does anyone want?
What do I want from you?
Probably nothing, really.
Or maybe, everything –
Everything that has no name,
That slides smoothly
Sideways between layers
Of a real world, a real life,
Slivering and splintering
That which is real into
Reflections upon reflections.
So, you want something, or nothing
From me, and so do I, from you.
Yet, here we are, fascinated,
Irritated, angry, disinterested,
Engaged, detached, leaning forward,
Pushing back, turning sideways.
Would you like to hear me speak?
You do?
I do.
First, you are filled with admiration,
And now, your head droops.
Is it too much, what I say?
Is it all too much,
All those words, those
Endless streams of words
Sweeping away all protest
All other things you wanted to say?
Am I real in your eyes?
Are you real in mine?
We see each other but
Through a glass,
And as we reach out,
Touch fingers, palms, hands
Shake hands,
The glass cracks and shatters
And we get cut to the quick.
So, we back away, and quickly
Conjure up another glass in its place.
In this, our world, things
Shift shape, scream, scatter,
Reform, melt and blend,
And blur, and re-form, all figures
In a hyper-real dream.
For, reality is
Entirely too much.
You see me.
I see you.
And we won’t know each other again,
As we gaze through a glass
Darkly, but darkly, searching in vain,
For all will have changed,
And we will not see us.
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