Part 03

This story will ask you define home. This story
will also ask you to define alone. At different times
in the middle, the middle without beginning or
end. Don’t mock its eager asking. Though this story
is ordinary, it knows more than a formless cloud

split by the horizon or a reed bent over the water
not understanding its own reflection. It feels more.
This story will ask you to define them both with
the same words. Life is always three trick questions.
I once saw a painting in a gallery, somewhere in

Europe, that made me think the artist had imagined
a sunny day when the light slanted in from the
left and created all manner of shadows, even a dog
with eight legs. And then he had, for what reason we
will never know, splattered rain all over it, everything

soaked, even the four legs that couldn’t have been.
Maybe his morning got too warm, so he imagined
wet relief. For himself. For a lover. Maybe something
ruined his light, his saunter down the yellow streets,
something, someone. So, he took away from everyone

what he could not have. The street. The lover. Four feet.
How will you tell from the painting? How will you tell from
the shape of my grief what this story is? How will you tell
from my story what the shape of my grief is? How will
you tell from this story, what home is? What alone is?

How will you describe them both using the same words?

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24 thoughts on “Part 03

  1. This mysterious journey is quite intriguing and the images are delicious…twists, turns. switchbacks. Moreover, the thinking out loud questions skillfully woven into the story (stories?) are compelling crumbs to follow along at whatever pace you set and direction you choose.

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  2. Too intrigued to answer the questions which may turn out to be answers in themselves. You never cease to amaze me with your style of bending words Rajani.
    Happy weekend

    Much💖love

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  3. At first I wondered if there was a intended playfulness in the pairing of the words (and how together they had a link to a children’s holiday movie), but by the end it felt like the pairing underlined the pain in this piece. What ought to have been delight and comfort is now an assortment of images, linked to sadness and confusion. I am intrigued how it is both set up as a mystery, asking the reader to contemplate how the words home and alone fit into this tale, and how the subject tells us directly “this story is ordinary”. There is something very compelling in this “ordinary story” and I’m curious to see how it evolves.

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  4. Poets have to find fresh circuits round the finite self, or we end up sounding too much like our selves. Earth-songs force me to think outside my dearth. May fresh worlds come to view!

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