Tuesday, March 02, 2010

Late Goodbye

the devil grins from ear to ear when he sees the hand he's dealt us
points at your flaming hair, and then we're playing hide and seek
I can't breathe easy here, less our trail's gone cold behind us
till' in the john mirror you stare at yourself grown old and weak

and we keep driving into the night
it's a late goodbye, such a late goodbye...

There was no goodbye.

It was a red-eye flight for more reasons than one. Dreams and fear fought for their rightful place. Fear won. And kept sleep at bay.

Sleeplessness is a bad state to realize that salt tastes bad on your lips unless it’s on the rim of your Bloody Mary.

It does not help sleep-deprived eyes to be filled with salt-water. It hurts. No metaphor there. And closing your eyes doesn’t necessarily change anything. Something else starts to hurt then. Deep inside.

You pretend to be asleep but there is nothing you can do to stop the acid rain on your face. You did not select the usual window seat. You never thought you would need one.

With no window to hide against, you close your eyes and pretend that nobody can see you. The cat that thought the world couldn’t see. It’s a different matter it was getting a treat in return. You got whiplashes. From everyone. Starting with the 6 AM breeze.

It’s one of those rare moments when you find strange comfort among strangers. Those who knew you would have asked questions. And what would you have said. That you were riding a dream? And it’s touchdown now. Ground realities.

For the first time in life anonymity is sanctuary. Nobody cares as your eyes leak themselves over. After a while you can physically feel the void inside. That empty space where it all came to life. Your dreams and fears and tears. Emptied now. Written all over your face with salt ink. If only it could be read.

The sunrays come in through the window now. 25A. You should have booked that seat. To see the sun rise and the new day come over the world. But you’re stuck at 25E. And looking the other way, the way you are headed, away from warmth and from the light. Looking at what you are headed towards even as others are headed home. The cold.

There you were, sitting on the rock and watching the moon rise. You watched other people take off on those dreams of steel. To where they would be fulfilled.

Now you sit on that rock again, a part of you, and watch the sun rise. And you watch yourself take off on the wings of cold morning steel.

3 Thinkers Pondered:

Tigerstone said...

The Chronicles Of Anicka – Chapter 3?

Anupama said...

Hey Tigerstone!

I didn't realize it would end up sounding like that with the reference to the flight and how I was crying on my way out of Slovakia :)

But sadly, no...this isn't part of the Chronicles Of Anicka...how I wish it was though and not what it actually is!

Atanu Dey said...

Extremely well written - Anupama. Lovely command of the language and one from the heart.