Dozens of hands have lifted me
the registrar who pressed too hard,
the counsel rifling always for the paragraph that might save someone.
But I remember one above all others.
Not the presiding officer's
that hand held me the way a man holds what he has already decided.
I mean the petitioner's hands.
Dry from travel.
A callus on the right thumb from work I have no name for.
She held me at the corner, not the spine
as if she knew she was not entitled to my centre.
When she set me down before the bench,
I felt the precise weight of her hope: not large, not small
the weight of one who no longer expects rescue
but asks only that the world note what happened, and when.
I am not judging.
I am the file.
I remember everything the verdict did not.
Five decades ago, one dusk after field duty
I stood at Moirang Lamkhai by the roadside
waiting for the passenger bus.
No bus came the last one might had gone I feared.
Then I spied an old man, dhoty hitched to knees,
shirt of cotton coarse sleeves long.
Bare foot he strode in the hush of the twilight.
I hailed, " Uncle has the last bus gone ? "
" Yes, it has gone, no more tonight." he replied,
" Homeward bound ? Don't worry stay at my house tonight."
No hotel in the bazaar but a pure hospitality.
We walked the road, his voice was gentle.
" See how the land developed - going on the road
feels like going on my home's floor (earthen)."
Then Gopaljee Sharma,Asstt Registrar C.S.
rolled in by office jeep post duty.
He called me aboard : I thanked the kind elder,
bade farewell, returned to my residence.
Now Moirang Bazar boasts hotels.
But such a kind hospitable old man,
which was the characteristics of people in the old days,
is not seen again.
Linguagem
Acredite:
a linguagem
existe menos
para registrar
o real, do
e mais para
liberar o sonho.
Pense,
descreva
e fale
que acontece
especialmente
se for
descrever
fazer
mais e mais.
We do not allow any hoodies here, principal stated firmly.
My sixth graders pointed to me and laughed.
Second field trip of the month.
Of course I am the one wearing a clover green hoodie.
It is St. Patty’s day, for Peter’s sake!
Last week during our college field trip
Prissy registrar showed us a film
How to dress
And
How not to dress.
They actually had an X on
Socks with sandals.
It was a cold day,
And I love my Birkenstocks
With a bit of fluff.
The sixth graders who notice practically nothing
About me at all when I am trying to get their
Attention thought this was hilarious also.
Not weathering unorthodox
my writing never stall,
a nasty omen not respect
ungodly not withdraw!
Then draw the line on solitude
forever resting, spall
functions as evil's interlude
embracing where with all!
Some compromise to not inflict
the war games endless fall
the move continues to the quick
but enter not the gall.
The line of doing's registrar
uneasy to install
as monetary service, pick
a winner, loser small!
To kill or not to kill console
and numbers Faith's conflict
while time to save the precious soul
is shortened . . . . . by predict!
federal court rooms are all wood
acoustics mastery - sound drops dead
no muffled conversations
the silence is palpable, tactile
I would be a witness
cooperating with the prosecutor
a case against my former colleague
I cried
what I lost in loyalty
conceding an acknowledgment of guilt
might improve my outcome
it did not
maximum sentence: 5 years
recommended by the prosecutor's office
ignored by the judge, who ordered reasonable
..... punishment, like a child
not like a child
freedoms locked, no negotiation
a letter from the local registrar
"Your voting privileges terminated"
Its a bright golden day
A wedding day is planned
The bride is 8 months pregnant
Tries to hide it with her hand
Now that bump is more than a handful
As we are yet to see
Cos she starts to fidget
Has a pain or two or three
Hang on we try to tell her
Lets get you married first
She takes a few deep breadths
Hope the pain doesnt get worse
So the registrar does her job
As fast as she could
Cos baby is on the way
Things arent looking good
As the bride said her vows
Her waters broke 'oh my'
We reassure her its ok
Hoping she doesnt cry
There's a wedding meal planned
speeches to be made
We tell the friends go on enjoy
But video it instead
So thats how we have the video
Of a wedding breakfast but no bride
Her and her new hubby
Were sort of busy deep inside
The maternity wing of the hospital
where I am midwife its a laugh
As I take off my glamour gear
To don a hosp gown and mask
So instead of eating a lovely meal
I am here doing what i do best
Delivering a little boy
Now can we all get some rest?
A Pint of Bitter…sure-
At the registrar office we´re getting married
when I noticed on her papers she had been
married 5 times….hold on you never told me
this, I thought you had been married once and
had a daughter with him. I have of think about
this marriage left she accosted me in the street
and said; but what about the caterers, sausage
rolls and pies?
Cheshire; rain and I dislike indigestible food.
I a walked into a pub and had chicken in a basket
with chips and a pint of beer. Her brother came in
and 12 pints of beer later I agreed to marry his sister.
The rest was a blur working men´s clubs and more beer.
The English working class is a tribe and I didn´t fit in.
I went back to sea again but that bloody piece of paper
with my name on took years to erase.
I’m sitting down upon a chair that is brown
Trying to listen to my teacher who is talking
With girls on my sides whose face is frowning
Cause my teacher says a story that seems so boring.
I don’t know what he really utters about
Cause he speaks of spiritual matters which we’re in doubt
We’re supposed to be tackling about a relevant topic
But it seems he talks about someone’s life being tragic.
My mind wants to grasp and fully absorb
The lessons and values he shares and reports
But unfortunately there is a barrier like an orb
Protecting my intellect from his talks of all sorts
With my fellow students we are waiting
For Miss Registrar to make that bell ringing
Because our eyes seems going downfall
To the realms of darkness with the speed of a waterfall
To say I need you is not true,
nor if I said I love you.
For we are just friends,
looking to a means for an end.
So if we stay the way we are,
we might just make it to the registrar.
But if things should not go to plan,
I would still be the same young man.
and you would be the woman so fair,
with sparkling eyes and golden hair.
No bitter cove, so atrophy's employ
I wrestle with content, complexion's cloy,
the general indication to destroy
combat with trials ending ~ in convoy!
Ne'er the edge of space that would deploy
my sentiment, accepting this feigned rule
to kill or not be killed, no infant's toy
this registrar of negligence adds the fuel!
The teaming of great men, and women's school
envisioning some justice from restrain,
not only speaking justice, but its tool
to love, or not be loved still erstwhile gain!
And so I love thee thus, in absence pool
eternity's fond grace, a reckoning aim,
all fetish, honored, stolen, made a fool
as in life's challenges excised with claim!
And so I love thee most ~ and so exclaim
this poet's license holding heart's impair,
as only healing from thy hurt as main
I hold my own in righteous truth's own share!
. . . thee asking not my premise, I not strain
my spirit knows thy freeing . . . my aware!
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