Hello Poem by Sharmila Ray

Hello,
writing to you is like writing on a blank page which magically will soak in all the
words and become blank again. So there is only blank.Writing to you is addressing
a blank within me. Tracing a line from your forehead down to your lips and then to
your heart which is warm and cruel like the enigma of oxymoron and I want to nestle there like sweet poison, corked and carefully preserved.
But can one learn to live? Can living be learnt from experiment and sameness,
passion and indifference, art and craft?
Last years words belong to last years language, frozen and dried and the lilies that I had planted had withered too.
Should I invent a new language?
I want to count the moles on your face, breathe deeply the honey mint of your breath and then go off to sleep peacefully.
In a moment we are in words and language, in a moment we are outside words. We are
fusing each other.
Be my nest…



Using the quick-option reply let me say your words reach out and touch me. Your word
have tongue.Word-tongue. Your word have teeth. Word-teeth. The tongue caresses the
teeth bite. Your mail makes the evening smile softly at me and there is silence like the intense white heat. I seem to contract, to shrink and dwindle to a small colourless dot,
scarcely larger than hundreds of dots on your computer screen. I feel in my bones a sharp ache of the coming frost.
We live in each moment and in each we learn to live. What are we expecting? Perhaps,
something, perhaps, nothing at all. We return to the same dialogue only to find it decayed.
But then we do return, isn’t it?
What you desire or I, is perhaps, already a memory by the time you open your inbox.
For you, let me be a thin line between dreaming and wakening.
Yours…