The words untie the strings of my heart
In great despair, I write these words.
To alleviate the painful puckering surds.
[surds are irrational numbers. like the suffering of an illness]
I write them to beguile a lost innocence.
Solemnly dissolved in intrepid pretense.
[the pretense of smiling in front of others that everything is okay]
The words untie the strings of my heart,
dismember a stolid dung-pile of cart.
[this poem is like a stolid dung-pile of cart. dismembering is unloading. It helps me lighten myself.]
Unearthing a freedom long forgotten,
shuffling lead-blocks with heaps of cotton.
CONTEXT: Everyone who is critically ill has these moments in his life, when he feels helpless, when the world for him is as far as the world can be. Specially in times, when he is visiting a hospital. And if a critically ill goes through a heart break, he becomes even more despairing.
These are natural state of affairs. And I have gone through my share of sadness (and will continue to do so). We should not try to hide them. We should write them, leave them stored in the blocks of our heads.
The most important line in this little (not so great) verse of mine is : The words untie the strings of my heart; for writing is something that helps me deal with my everyday struggles. Like for example pushing a glycerine tablet everyday into my anus, to properly shit.
