EXPOSED

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Only my hands, neck and face are exposed

To the chilly breeze that’s blowing life out of me

In the bone cracking cold of November.

Although the sun is out- brightly posing

All across the clear blue canvas above me

I am striving to hold onto a feeling I don’t remember.

Humans scattered like ants, walking in same

Yet different directions, some are probably getting 

To their next class, others- getting nowhere…?

“Does it matter if we ever meet?

Does it matter if we don’t get to know each other?”

Oh I can’t think anymore–

I should’ve worn a scarf, my neck feels numb.

A chill runs through my spine; I feel myself involuntarily move as I shiver.

I am facing the sun, leaning against a huge cement pillar,

The sound of this paper flickering in the breeze,

My mechanical pencil bleeding off it’s life into whatever I’m writing,

Is accompanied by the crunchy fall rustle of yellow, red and orange leaves

Exposed on the sidewalks and all over the roads, and under the trees.

I’m wondering to myself- do you think you’re getting somewhere?

Why does life always have to be so uncertain?

Why do I have to  earn everything- I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth

(I know how to eat with my hands) but why?

How is everything back to normal when this suicide victim just shot himself yesterday?!

Did he ask questions to himself too?

Will I not be remembered? 

Will I ever serve the world and do something worthwhile?

I can’t help it; tears are blurring my vision,

My helpless eyelids blink and tear drops roll down my cheeks.

My tears feel warm on my cold skin,

Unlike my fears that feel freezing on my warm heart.

Why am I so secretive?

Or shall I ask, why do I have to be secretive?

Will I ever paint my dreams on my skin- expose myself to the world?

No- I won’t. Not now at least. This isn’t the best time.

I want to become someone. I have to become  “someone”

Before my decisions and behaviors can be understood and accepted.

I will wait for things to fall in place, for as long as it’ll take.

You know what I am talking about-

TOMorrow is approaching faster than you think.

And I am waiting for you, every tomorrow,

Until it’s finally that day– when I won’t let go of you.

I am not exposed unless this paper flies away and someone reads it.

So I am folding it; giving it a neat crease dividing the notebook paper exactly into half.

There is a pocket on the inside of my overcoat- it’s the one closest to my heart-

So that is where these words are going to rest, until I know for sure

I am ready to be exposed. 

~ Kripa Sarkar

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