The Sail Of Life

By Senjutee Mazumder

Afloat on the endless stretch of an erratic sea,

Crestfallen and forlorn, half bound yet half free

To live or to leave the show called life; a sacred gift!

Balancing on a rickety raft; lonely, being cast adrift,

I sail to keep my dying soul alive inside my untimely failing body

Like, just to live, a fisherman plays dice with his life stoically.

Fighting a long arduous battle in painful silence,

I have often gone so far as taking my last breath!

Against the pitiless perilous storms and the wild whimsical tides,

Breaking me into pieces and swallowing up my laborious strides

Like the viperous Charybdis killing men sailing through Messina,

Or turning men into stones the gaze of snake-haired Medusa.

So that, I, forever, remain a slave to the turbulent sea’s cruel will,

Unlike those dwelling on the soft green grass beds of a plain or hill.

My hands, numb from incessant rowing, and my heart, wailing!

My eyes wakeful of a distant iceberg or a serpent beneath waiting

To devour me, and my ears wary; lest a deadly storm arise again.

Yet I must go on, knowing, besides the woes there’s nothing to gain!

Some days I row with all my might; regaining my zeal to sail

To render a direction to my raft, so come what may it mustn’t fail.

Other days, I let it float by itself; staring at the hollow above

Soon, losing sight of where I’m heading, I look out for Noah’s dove;

But nowhere have I found yet that harbinger of sweet peace,

To unburden my bleeding soul, weighed down by monumental grief;

And to axe the monsters inside my head, tearing my soul apart,

Which, of youthful spirits and vigour, rob even the merriest heart!

My weary eyes long to see all that I’ve passed; old phases and places,

That in the castle of my memory have left irremovable traces.

This sea, I’ve called my home ever since the start of dawn,

Whose ruthless waves I fought as a child, being as meek as a fawn!

Once in a while, the sun shone brightly above during my golden teen

But soon after, shrouded was the sky by dark hues casting a cynical grin.

The bright morning has passed and so has the gloomy afternoon,

Now I wonder, if the sun, lurking behind the dark clouds, will reappear soon!

Hopeless and dejected; I doubt if my eyes will ever see the sunset on my way,

For, most profoundly, didn’t great Keats say that “life is but a day?”

Still, broken and unhealed, I must go on till the waves knock me down!

Yes, I must go on sailing until the waves finally gulp me down.

By Senjutee Mazumder