The Walking Stick
"Louis!",she calls out.
Yes,ironically I am the namesake.
A signboard-Please don't hurt me.I'm blind.
"Are you lost in thought again?
You and your stupid world!"
My stupid world.
I see her bite her tongue in my mind.
A smile on my lips.
"I am so happy today!
Won't you ask why?"
"Need I?"
Laughter.Sameness.Bliss.
Such conversations are a mark of years of friendship.
Unbreakable.Apparently so.
"I am in love!
Oh how beautiful the world looks
The hues, colours.They have deepened.
I wish I could lend you my eyes,
Just so you could see this for me
I wish I could explain everything."
I attempt to seem excited.
But it hurts.
Is the pain 'cause she talks about colours, in mockery of my blindness?
Or is it 'cause she will be gone?
Anyway, pain doesn't come with a tag does it?
I wish it did.
I guess love is blind 'cause even she couldn't see-Reality.
No!It can't be as horrible as cecity.
I guess the lover is blind.
Do I?No,can't be,she's only.
I perceive it is how you long for something,
When you see it being taken away.
I should tell her what she means to me.
I never have.No I shouldn't.
I hate this darkness.I hate this world.
Is it monotony or monochrome?
That which incurs upon the world,
A blind man's curse; my curse.
Monotony I infer,
Cause I never have seen other colours.
Or is it because I never have seen other colours.
That I am anguished in my void.
That, has to be it.
Cause sameness,it’s part of my life.
A measured comfort.Measured in my steps,in my touch.
Change;I hate.
I should go for my evening walk,get some stale fresh air,like every day.
My stick isn't where it’s supposed to be.
Did I smell her perfume today or was it his?
Where is my cane?
How long has she kept this from me?
Ah!There it is.
No,this can't be.A crack!
Couldn't she have told me before? Maybe I never took her hints.
But I loved this stick. She gifted it to me.It was perfect.
I know every curve on it,Every dent.It fits in my hand perfectly.
I guess I should move on,she is happy.
I can't do with this stick.
No I can't do without it.
Can't someone fix it?
Damn You God.Damn you life.
I guess even atheists look towards Almighty
When they really are desperate.
Wait!
Am I dreaming?
Is it a nightmare?
After all it is hard to tell when it's dark all the time.
Who kept that there?
Her bag.She must have left it when she came.
She forgets it so often.
Sameness.
A smile on my lips.
-©Viraj Shah,Po3ngineer
Copyright © Viraj Shah | Year Posted 2013
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