MOHIT MITRA Poet Lyric

Borrowed Radiance

—On Ruin, Radiance, and Return—



They counselled me: transfigure thyself, and go;
I thanked them, took their counsel, and withdrew,
for sometimes one must unhouse what they know
ere the soul bear the burden of its view.
I changed no countenance; I changed the hand
that wore it—and found alien what I had planned.

I watched the fortunate emerge from rain,
their laughter argent upon the darkened street;
some inward sun moved plenary through each vein,
whilst mine made weather of another's heat.
I did not covet what their joy had won—
I envied how its radiance needed none.

Yet I have walked as other wayfarers walk,
taken the accustomed thoroughfare at dusk,
returned with dust embosomed in my sock,
and named as providence what might be rust.
We counterfeit our gestures long enough to be
mistaken for the grammar of destiny.

There lies a waste ordained by choice alone:
stand still, and sand ascends towards the bone;
advance, and flame pursues thee as thine own,
till even thy shadow abdicates its stone.
Once, crossing it, I saw beneath the sun
a shadow walking where I had not gone.

They watched my ruin ripen into fact,
and rubbed their hands, as mourners sometimes do;
their pity consecrated the wreck to spectacle,
as though its desolation were their due.
None saw the small, recurrent blade at night
with which I pared my living down to light.

So become colour, if thy blood can bear
the burden of becoming visible;
become the fragrance that outlives the air,
the essence that survives the indivisible.
I shall not vest the world to make it mine:
I shall become the utterance wherein it shines.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment