Except That Act (A Poem)

Except That Act

Bedroom is in turmoil

Crises, Crises

Here 

Everything happens

Except that One!

There’s time for every act

Except for that One.

How it used to be?

My bedroom

Used to rock with the sights

Of

Companionship and body embraces

Tender memories of shared intimacy

Such

Feelings would crowd my mind

Used to be a place filled

With loving tones and talk

Now (tension … tension)

All the time’s spent

For the City

(Restricted Emotions

Disconnected Intimacy)

Children come

And

Drop their books on the bed

The maid comes

And

Drops the laundry on the bed

Relatives come

And settle on the bed

Enjoying a meal

Friends come

And sip their tea on the bed

My bed is always occupied -

During days and nights

(Is always busy)

Like our urban (city) lives

There isn’t a thing

That doesn’t happen on my bed 

Except that One! (English Translation of the Telugu poem by మెహజబీన్ )

(I came across the original poem in a Telugu newspaper. It caught my attention immediately. The poet is hinting at something deeper during these troubled post-Covid times. The poem brings out the pain of modern life in a big city. Things like bedroom (or beds) do exist but without their essential functionality. Companionship, intimacy, and physical touch are rare in this day. What for all this endless stress, strife, and work? How sad? Life is reduced to mere drudgery.

I congratulate the original Telugu poet for expressing so poignantly the delicate situation and for imparting form for the distress.) Copyright 2022 by the author