Savyasaachi

Some days one is surrounded by faces and names,
and one is not aware of what to do.
Some days there is a calm quietness that dissolves all languages
And there are troubles paralyzing the mind.
Against all the crusades to bleed out the silence
To reap a riot of articulation when nothing is required.
And some days, days such as these
Are meant for running away, outside the prosaic clamour.
For words, words, meaning and boundaries;
There is a need to be in a place where solitude cannot be erased
And the humiliation that comes when words are forced out of us
Is understood without risking respect
These words don’t come whenever I open the door.
These words happen when I don’t look.
Everything as a result is a search for the words,
which fall into pits of darkness when you are not looking;
And which go away when not let out,
Banging behind closed doors –
Which opens but not for anyone who has owned me –
But for the things that cannot be locked in a cellar
Or stored in glass jars.