The Visible Invisibles

Avinash brings us a soulful poem, on being in a limbo, lost, but not quite. 

I’m neither here nor there

not sure when or where

in a queue am the person standing last

of an uncertain future and a blurry past

I have a label and no name

My desperation the claim to fame

no caste or creed we are all the same

head bowed tongues tied once wild now tame

the once wealthy are now homeless

the once believers are now godless

the once atheists are now fanatics

the once uneducated are well versed in ballistics

I could be from the land across the seas

or from the land across the border

I could be from the poorest country

or from the affluent sectors

i thought i mattered,

I thought It made sense

till I was stuck in a category

the lifeless without death’s ultimate mercy

Things could be better

things should be better

I am.not just a headline

I am not just a news update

I am not just a status

and surely not just a tweet

I could be a painter

I could be a scientist

I could be an engineer or even a doctor

or I could just reach my teenage

where I’d know what I wanted to be

I didnt want to be found slurping the saltiness of the ocean

the very ocean that now is filled with tears of my kin

I didn’t want to be found in an ambulance

where blood and gore is no more a sin

I didn’t want to leave my home to a place where I’m not wanted

I didn’t want to forget who I was in a place where I can never be me

I’m not angry with God, though he too is a reason

I’m not angry with Science, though it is no less a reason

I’m not angry with my parents who sent me away on a boat

I’m not angry with my children who were not taught to know better

I’m not angry with fate, for putting me through all this.

I’m just angry with man, for this is nothing but the greatest inhumanity by man

money drove some,

prospects drove some,

blood drove some

family drove some

love drove some

life drove some

security drove some

safety drove some

benevolence drove some

violence drove some

staying back wasn’t an option

destination isn’t one either

fear trumps love

fear trumps sense

fear trumps reason

fear trumps memory

fear trumps everything

but hope.

hope is powerful and cruel

but beggars can’t be choosers

and citizens of the limbo

can’t quite ask for more

we are just the absurdities

that resulted from atrocities

we are a history that wont be forgotten

we are a dark mark that can’t be unlived

but it is never late

and better late than never

no one else has to go through

what we went through

history might never be unlived

but definitely can avoid being relived…

till then,

i have to lurk in the dark

with no sunshine in sight

I am not a hero

neither wanted nor deserved

I am not the watchful protector of justice

but just the reminder of the opposite

more of a vociferous victim

than a silent guardian

who am I?

I just wish…

-Avinash