communication
A man came to meand rattled something
about politics,
the upcoming election, terrorism,
economics, blabbered
on billions of rupees
of tax collection, revenue,
trade and commerce.
He spoke volumes
in minutes about
his trade and profit,
his plans of opening
five star hotels
and a car showroom.
It was intolerable,
yet I remained a human
giving my ears to him.
Then I thought of
talking to him
about something
out of my own interest.
I began with how human
civilization found some
rare assets as poetry, music and
other forms of art.
How foul play of some
power hungry corporations
defile the sanctity of life.
Then I switched over
to Allen Ginsberg,
John Ashbery,
Gabriel Garcia Marquez,
Li Po, Tagore and Rumi.
As I looked at his face
to decipher the impression
my talk carved on him,
I discovered him miserable
and ready to flee my words and
impatient for an amnesty
from the smell of my thought.
I shook my hand with him
and let him be off.
Nearly an hour he talked
to me and I to him
with a granite wall of difference
between us.
I realize, we didn't really
communicate a word to each other.
We talked to ourselves.
copyright Mukul Dahal 2006
Poetry by Mukul Dahal
Read 758 times
Written on 2006-11-01 at 16:19
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