Sitaram
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Sadness, Loneliness, Uncertainty:
Unpleasant, yet required,
Ingredients of Personality.
Shall I quarry them like stones
To build myself, an edifice of poems?
Or query them, my nakedness,
My shame, clothing them in optimism,
Philosophy, Theology,
That frail and fragile
Panoply of Isms?
Or, as the glass of houses,
Are they prisms,
Refracting a rainbow reality?
Three bending, aged question marks
One legged, with no crutch.
They are my judge and jury.
Indifferent and unmoved by tears or fury. Such
As these have banished me to outer dark.
Alas, these are my prisons.
I am a poet waiting on death row,
Gazing through the bars of Think and Know.
- Sitaram
Written 9:30 a.m, Thursday, November 16, 2000
Unpleasant, yet required,
Ingredients of Personality.
Shall I quarry them like stones
To build myself, an edifice of poems?
Or query them, my nakedness,
My shame, clothing them in optimism,
Philosophy, Theology,
That frail and fragile
Panoply of Isms?
Or, as the glass of houses,
Are they prisms,
Refracting a rainbow reality?
Three bending, aged question marks
One legged, with no crutch.
They are my judge and jury.
Indifferent and unmoved by tears or fury. Such
As these have banished me to outer dark.
Alas, these are my prisons.
I am a poet waiting on death row,
Gazing through the bars of Think and Know.
- Sitaram
Written 9:30 a.m, Thursday, November 16, 2000