Caught

a strange journal into the unemployment of S.Kandaswamy 
chapter 9:  Caught   
                                                                                                                                                

Here I am in the silent secrets and here I am caught by shadows in love. The meaning of fear has pierced me so deep that I tremble at the softest rustle of the leaves beneath my feet. Finding refuge behind the bark of a pine and I wonder how far could my feet runaway from home. Listening intently to the crowded voices that intend to speak out of turn, telling me that I should run left and right, turning forwards and backwards and out of their sight, and to flee north and south for eternally the east has become the wind of the west and the turn at the road has been lighted by the moon and the night has become dangerous and grudging. Leaning against the corridor of a deceitful companion of unearthly soil and I look from side to side, waiting for the footsteps to sound at the march of the hunt.

Suspicious of this night for it is still that I can hear the life of mine running so hard that my heart cannot keep the pace. Keeping the silence that is so hard to keep among the restless doubts that hinder the midnight escape from the startling daze of the revealing sun.

I have nothing to hide from as my eyes can see and understand the nature of my distress but there can be no comfort from the moon and stars tonight for the natural son can hide himself from the roving bullet that whistles in the dying wind. The crime of living within the secrets that circle like the spiralling wires that climb my innermost thoughts and run away, runaway from the cold becoming colder as the night has turned me against , and inside out as the flesh has turned to bone in the eerie light.

Carried away by the rash spurring of my tired legs on the ground, to sprint to paradise for the world is too cold for me to bear now. A human in the benevolent guise of blood and warmth and of my humanity that remains so little after the abuse of my so called freedom from sleep and that touches like thorn among the black roses in the dark. Welcome, welcome they cry as they flower in the crushing darkness as I am plunged into the poison of my deeds. Holding my hands over my head as I fall to my knees and I wish for a saviour in birth of no virgin mother and to cry at my ignorance as the sun has started to rise above the moon and I must walk back home in a while.