Another Life (poem)

In another life, I thought people were like me.

In another life, I thought I was like people.

In another life, I was unique still, in my differentiated way

In another life, I lived this without knowing the day

In another life I was confused

In another life I was happy

In my angst and sorrows, anger and frustrations

Away from the insurance of knowledge

and the weariness of a middle-roaded comfort

that drains passions that shape fashions.

In another life the first person was singular,

delightfully angular.

When the light broke in there was darkness

Of another life, another kind

This must be another light:

the thing we call darkness.



(C) N. Madhavan, 2012