Sweet Respite

It does not shut off. Hours after the clock strikes midnight, when the cars have stopped screeching over the tarred roads, the dogs have ceased their everyday howling, the looming drunkards have stopped wandering the footpaths, even the owls’ hooting has mellowed, the ant-lines on the cracks of the walls have dispersed and settled into the recesses, but you, you sit at the leg of your bed, on the marble floor, trying to shut off - -this intrepid thought. Drifting. Lambasting. Questioning. When was the last time?

When was the last time,

you felt at ease?

When tears shone in your eyes

from joy, not sorrow.

Do you remember the last time,

you smiled at a child

and felt his tender gaze caressing you?

When did you last,

look up at the stars,

cradled in your lovers embrace?

When was the last time,

you said "I love you!" and meant it.

Hoping and wishing

they felt the same.

You sit in your room, on the cold marble floor. It’s long since the moon has risen; it’s long for it to set. When was the last time? You ask over and over again, like a fervent poet. When was the last time you stopped needing a superhero? When was the last time you had him at all? When was the last time you stopped asking for wishes? When never did they flicker in truth or phantasm. When was the last time you had structured thoughts, fully formed? Like children building a palace at the seashore. Some intricate, some broken. Some opulent, some washed-out.

When was the last time?

With a glass of scotch

and some peanuts left untouched,

Groggy and merry, with sleep and spirit,

you stumbled to bed into waiting arms.

Made love, only to wake up

in the middle of the night to make love again.

When life makes a mad scramble

to get away from you,

When was the last time,

you made it stop, made it stay?

- Verses by Nikita Sawant and prose by someone who shall remain unnamed