“I know it all, second renter,
I know it all,
Down to the very cold you feel.”
Mrs. R, my poetry teacher who introduced me to Tagore and Kazantzakis and de-coded the opaque world of T.S. Eliot for us, once sent me this haiku in response to one of the angst-ridden letters of my youth.
The knowledge that someone understood, that someone has walked this path before, that someone will not ridicule your pain, that someone will listen to your story without irritation or indifference - how infinitely precious.
In the rented house of each stage of life, is it this "I know" that you search for, and find so rarely?
".....We should be careful of each other, we should be kind, while there is still time." Philip Larkin
Saturday, January 22, 2011
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2011
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January
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- Si, si, Indio!
- Now tell me
- Mongolia on my mind
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- The hallucination of contemporary life
- I know it all
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- Joe Hisaishi
- Fast Enough
- Walk away
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- There, rest. No more suffering for you.
- Poem written in the street on a rainy evening
- The debasement of language
- Aur woh hasthé hué kaha....
- Douglas Adams: Parrots, the Universe, and Everything
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1 comment:
Beautifully written-I am not sure why, but it reminded me of this poem by a dear friend.
sometimes, love is folded
as tenderly as the clothes
of the dead
are folded one last time
before being given away
- Shabbir Banoobhai, A mountain is an upside down valley, www.veilsoflight.com
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