Rooms
Years ago, I visited a room replete with the terribly well-spoken.
They conversed much among themselves. They gestured emphatically and were distraught over many ills. Despite this handwringing, they drank good drink and feasted on fine food.
I found myself perplexed by their tragedy. I suspected I might be missing a part of the picture, a piece of the puzzle. And so I visited another such room. And another, and another, and another.
Following these travails, I recommend one exit such rooms quietly and quickly.
**
The Days
During the days of the party I spoke for,
We laughed, sang, danced, rejoiced.
We made money, deals, profits, promises.
And we wrote. We wrote a great many
Rebuttals, barbs, memoirs, hit pieces.
We shook hands, shed tears, smiled,
Bowed low.
During the days of the party I did not speak for,
We made merry, forgot, brushed under carpets, swept aside.
We made more money, more deals, more profits, more promises.
And we wrote. We wrote sycophancies,
Op-eds, columns, think pieces, analyses.
We shook hands, shed tears, smiled,
Stooped low.
**
Mercy
Lend your mercy, God, to those of us who are
So certain of our knowing.
Our words may sound like conviction, but if you listen closely, you will find
Long years of mistaking belief for truth, truth for faith, and faith for meaning.
Years of seeking but not finding.
But I’m here now, God.
I’m here on the other side of hubris, if you will have me.
Tile Image Courtesy: Hemant Gavankar