Quintessence

By Namrata Sarkar

You call it misery? I call it Fire.

With every foot I step, the fire burning me alive, turns everything into ashes.

The sparks of my rampage flies all around, charring every last leaf of the swaying branches; fire never discriminates.

Holding an umbrella is futile as incineration is the only inevitable exception of existence.

Holding hands is pointless when flaring of anything I touch is the only unescapable desire of fate.

My tears evanescence from the wrath of my burning integument.

I am fire; I am rage.

The river immolates, the smile dissipates.

The known familiarity of the unknown dawns upon my burnt grave.

And there comes a time when the water falls only to drown.

I am drowning in agony whilst misery inundates me from within.

My body yearns for water but there’s not a drop to quench me.

I wonder, what’s more tormenting? The tears that fall or the ones that can’t swim.

There’s only one hand, my own, wanting to be held, wanting to be saved. But there’s none reaching out to hold me.

The ship has been engulfed and I am despondently drowning.

There are no mermaids down here neither are there any signs of Atlantis.

Only unfulfilled dreams.

Water is the only disappearing horizon I behold as I hear disappointment on the surface because of the way I sink.

But eventually the wind takes to the skies, nonchalantly.

There’s a burnt book, there’s a burnt heart and I follow the wind as it takes my ashes apart.

The rose you gave, lies wrinkled in between the pages of my diary. I look at it often.

The words you said, pricked my veins and I bathed in my own blood. I think about them often.

The wind sweeps away the words as I say.

I hardly get to hear my thoughts these days.

I once burned, I once drowned but never did I not put my foot down.

But now I am one with the wind. I go where I am taken and I float but never break. I fly, fly and fly.

Tell me, is it strength to belong or is it my lack of strength wanting to not belong?

But when I look at my ashes as they soar in the realm above, I wonder.

The wind bellows at me and all I do is smile and smile and smile.

‘You belong’ is what the earth subtly whispers.

And when the wind was too cruel to me, I dismantled slowly.

When I fell into the soft mud, the earth embraced me into a warm hug.

So, does it mean that when the rain falls, I won’t fall to my knees, begging for it to stop falling?

A fistful of dirt makes its way to my mouth.

I savour every bit of the coarseness it gives, the urge to feel something, lingers within.

Vines growing out of the scars this very world gave and now I find daffodils on my grave.

So, does it mean that this time, these flowers won’t wrinkle with time, like the ones that I once received?

I see light falling on me. The remains of the sand shines in between the crevices of my teeth.

I once touched the fire; I once faced the wind. I once met the water; I once accepted the bare earth within.

And one day, I will be the fire and next day, I will sense the wind. Some other day, I will swim in the river and I will finally, learn to run on the fields.

Someday, I will feel.

Someday, I will know the feeling mother earth gives.

By Namrata Sarkar