Life isn’t idyllic or beautiful, the crisp breeze doesn’t
always complement the scent of the grass,
but if you say, when you stand before the
Great Throne, ‘I wish I’d never existed!’
Honestly, sincerely and truthfully, the words
a cry of your heart than the outpouring of blandness
from your mouth, then I assure you that you’ll
be spared judgement.
The ways of this world are mysterious and the ways
of God more mysterious because none can comprehend the
latter even if they clasp the former and know its secrets.
He gives and takes away.
He bestows richness on the wicked and sends
the broken to more misery.
But these things are best left unfathomed
because knowing is seeing tears
on David’s face as Absalom’s blood finds
Each moment you live you devour with insatiable
hunger, and yet cry for something better than manna,
despondency is just a bard’s lament or the
theatre of the charlatan,
we create most of our sorrow because most grief
stems from pure selfishness –
a sense of abandonment,
a longing for something else,
a betrayal of the conscience,
a bitterness for each blow delivered,
a rage against norms,
a hatred towards oneself,
a resignation via self-pity.
Life is often scented with mildew
and my chin is weak and my body frail
and one uppercut sends me to the floor
and I foolishly stay knocked down,
and write sonnets about the spittle-ridden
and bloodied mat.
And you say, ‘Beautiful! Mesmerizing! Such depth!’
But I ask you what’s deep about sinking in a
I ask you what’s beautiful about clawing my
heart out and serving it on a platter,
I ask you what’s mesmerizing when it’s the
same trick, the same illusion I gave you,
just done differently each time.
Life isn’t beautiful, but I’ll live it anyway
and one day if light seeks me out and brightens
this oubliette, and destroys both the trapdoor
and the walls, I’ll walk away from all I’ve
ever known, and if you found me, you’ll
see someone just surer of his convictions,
but still the same, like the old oak that lost
its branch in the storm yesterday, but still
stands strong tomorrow.
© Nitin Lalit Murali (2018)