The Soot In-Between

by Sudha Srivatsan


Sitting by the window, I watch the world go by.
A stray cat bounds past, takes along my mind.
She runs to a crossroad;
Each split faces a different direction,
Looking through each other,
Conscious of their end destinations.

Squint as I might, my terminus remains unseen,
My eyes judge all, fatigued, weary.
Lights, red and green sparkle.
My brain, redeems and convolutes, simultaneously.
So many imaginary roads to travel, plus
The road well-traveled provokes no thoughts.

My realization, like sunrise at the crack of dawn,
Teaches that I misfit more than I fit,
Dislike more than I like,
Detach more than attach,
That I care not about adding, subtracting love and hatred,
That I border on indifference, mostly.

A handful of stimuli keep me going,
Help me at the wheel with steering,
Their exteriors no longer attractive,
Repel me more than ever,
Caring not if my rims fit the roads’ grooves,
Or that peace fails thither, in my room.

The oddity of a worldly, pristine,
Clarion view, I dare not fracture.
My kaleidoscope’s never been favored.
I remain socially unacceptable, invisible,
A great destination for another time.

I’m at peace with being an outcast.
Who determines the “in” castes?
Away from the paradox of the senses,
Which bind the sundry to cats and roads,
The inner reflects on the outer,
There’s no soot in-between.


Copyright © 2015 by Sudha Srivatsan

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