Tuesday, April 16, 2019

Blue Pages — RRRAINNN Special 02 — Anna Rozwadowska

. . .

Suruchi Jamkar

Drops feel within, an intricate discussion with white cells and the organ,
inside it plays a sweet humming; I run from the invitation to swim,
I fear drowning in the company of water, yet, outside, 
taking me to shores as if an ancient carrier had dove in, to find me,
drifting on the ice, abandoned on a piece of wood, wading through shallows,
drifting, drifting.
I sit on this bed and I think of you, I frame a picture and turn it away,
several times in a day you led me astray, I believed you would, get, better.
I am an ocean, a drop of a marble inside the infatuation of mankind,
conundrum of the troubled mind, find me kind, saturated in amber,
the sap of ancient trees I am found within, call me your sin,
my face is weathered where hope is found I will be next to your enjoyment,
vicariously, sifting through your stories and embedding my code
deep within.
How am I your sin?
Simply the angel that collects dust, confined to deepening shallow,
where words lose their meaning, transformed into purity and light,
I cannot fight I infiltrate the one who succumbs, feed me your crumbs,
weary one we are together on this journey, 
shelter me from the innate, inhale me as your creativity, I will appear
when the clock strikes noon.
Wicked monsoon, what do you wish to wash away, I ask the rain myself,
a communion with the elements that only I speak of, to myself,
purification it is them that you seek, for I have been cleansed, I am clean,
stare at my sheen, I reflect the night sky and the angel’s cry,
I will be found, one day, coalesced with earthen ties, 
mother cries, I shall not weep, for her sake and for I cannot cry,
my mouth, it cannot speak but I write, I write stories,
they will be left inside as remnants when you ascend,
far, far, into the night sky.

Anna Rozwadowska

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