The poet was gone, she became memory; memory turned into legend
The poet’s soul_ hardy beast of a soul – will manage to stay alive.
She would never master her new language completely,
And her sudden fits and visions would never leave her.
For a while she was a court favourite.
Atleast as long as her strange visions and strange pronouncements continued to awe and entertain everyone.
Who knows when she will break or bend a rule,
Simply because of being alone and forgotten.
Her face at this time brought together as never before
The excited wonder of the child or the poet, the torment and pain of understanding.
She, a faithful description of a woman who sought
All manner of truth in the infinite lap of the skies.
It was best to leave her in peace in a windowless room.
Her words made no sense to her listeners,
But there was an eerie sense of remoteness in her eyes-
As if they wre traveling to different places and times
Though she stood there, safely trapped.
Truth-sky, a double _ barrel name apposite for someone,
Torn between two places.
Her verse, a little too truthful for some tastes.
Source : When Dreams Travell BY Geeta Hariharan
Mehjabin Shahed 