Sunday, 9 September 2018

Locked rooms



There's a room somewhere, locked up, left alone,
an empty corridor furred thick with dust;
no chink of sunlight, no winking cell phone -
days grow a skin in there, curdle and crust.

The guitar stands abandoned, falls out of tune,
no hand even offhand touches the frets,
the lamp's straight, the table's no longer strewn
with papers and sheet music and headsets.

The silence spins its own threads and curtains,
the paint in a corner sags by degrees,
months scab over, the door's harder to open,
locks won't yield to a bunch of rusty keys.

Neither you nor I go there too often,
the dust of silence is layered, and thickens.






Still kind of wrapped up in the 'house' metaphor. Too many locked rooms, too many subjects that we are silent about. Need to be aired out with a bit of straight talk. But meaningful dissent is being slowly stifled, it's being equated with a lack of patriotism or even criminality. Activists are raided and harassed. History is being revised to suit political agendas. 

Last week, an archaic law criminalising homosexuality was struck down by the Indian Supreme Court. Still a lot of inequality in my world, a lot of marginalisation and discrimination based on gender or sexuality or appearance or where someone was born. But one step away from that. Every step is a landmark and aids the slow march to the destination.














17 comments:

  1. A music room unused is sad indeed...

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  2. Hi Nila - way too many subjects on which we are being silenced ... too much stifling dust ... so sad we can't appreciate all forms of life ... we shouldn't need them to be locked away ... cheers Hilary

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    1. Ya, lots of unlocking and sweeping to do everywhere..

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  3. Sadly too many of those rooms are not dusty, but homes to mould and decay. Things hidden in the dark have a habit of festering and growing.
    Each door/window opened to allow light and fresh air inside is a huge win.

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    1. Agree totally. Always better to air things out. Any light is an achievement.

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  4. Elephant's Child's comment used my thoughts as I read your poem. The tough part is opening that door or window in a positive way...not blinded by the light, but rather maybe proactively using some sunscreen and bit by bit welcoming the sun. Don't know if that makes sense.
    Good poem nonetheless.

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    1. It makes perfect sense. Too much light is as blinding as too little.

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  5. It seems like steps are made forward, and then some try and sometimes succeed in sweeping it all backwrards, forcing another fight to move back to where we were.

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    1. 'My dear, here we must run as fast as we can, just to stay in place.'

      Lewis Carroll

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  6. Unused room is just so sad. But I liked your poem.

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    1. Sad is easier to work into a poem. Pleased you enjoyed it.

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  7. Interesting! I'm struck by the image of the unused guitar. The cleared-off table suggests to me that both the guitar and the room were purposely abandoned (as opposed to, say, the musician's unforeseen, tragic death), which is just as sad. I wonder why he or she gave up the music?

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    1. Maybe he moved to a different place with his music. Maybe life intervened...so many possible ways to get to sadness.

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    2. I've known a lot of musicians, so I'm leaning toward "life intervened."

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  8. make me full of imagination after reading this well written poem.
    Have a great day

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