Tag Archives: quest

Why do You Hide From Me?

I have my own doubts and reluctance when it comes to this poetry, if at all it can be called one. I wrote it almost a year ago, and have never come about to posting it. So now you know how much I was hesitant to share this with anyone. It has taken me a year and another three days to have the courage to share this with you or anyone for that matter.

So now before I change my mind, I am going to hit publish, and let you guys judge me..

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Where are you hiding away from me?

Why, dear love, why do you hide from me?

 

Are you hiding beneath the sky?

The sky that is dark and gloomy

The empty face

That is raining down on me?

 

Are you hiding betwixt the stars?

The stars, magnificent and twinkling

A beautiful constellation

That is shining upon me?

 

Are you hiding behind the full moon?

A moon, calm and comforting

The complete façade

That is spreading its borrowed light on me?

 

Are you hiding among the woods?

The woods and trees that seem all lonely

The empty silence

That is lumbering down on me?

Are you hiding behind the sun?

The sun that is bright and radiant

The blinding fury

That is scorching down on me?

 

Are you hiding behind the mountains?

The mountains that are far and away

The scratchy road

That is soaring upon me?

 

Are you hiding among the seas and oceans?

The oceans that are waving in

The tumultuous uproar

That is really trembling me?

 

Are you hiding among the winds?

The winds, rapid and raw

A soft touch

That is truly whistling down on me?

 

In vain you hide from me

Why, dear love, why do you hide from me?

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Thank you once again, if you have come this far!! Did not expect you to.

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“Who am I?”

Preparing an essay on feminism I came across something which made me thinking, well, a lot of thinking happened after this. Nothing new, right? That is usually me, who keeps thinking on anything and everything.

So this is what I read today, a simple description on how women are depressed and what Friedan writes-

“I’ve tried everything women are supposed to do- hobbies, gardening, pickling, canning, being very social with my neighbours, — I can do it all, and I like it, but it doesn’t leave you anything to think about- any feeling of who you are. I never had any career ambitions. All I wanted was to get married and have four children. I love the kids and Bob and my home. There’s no problem you can even put a name to. But I am desperate. I begin to feel I have no personality. I am a server of food and a putter-on of pants and a bedmaker; somebody who can be called on when you want something. But who am I?”

I read a lot of things today, a lot which struck my mind and touched me but this dug something deep in my sub conscious mind.

That feeling, where you are absolutely helpless, when you don’t know what to do; when you question your own identity; that is absolutely depressing. And I do not have the courage to live with it. The point is I don’t ever want to have that kind of courage.

What would be the point of my life if I have to question my own identity?

You would say, why abruptly I am thinking so much, and why the question of identity? Nothing is wrong with my life, but this moved deep chords inside me.

I have never been too ambitious, no I won’t say I had no ambitions, I don’t even want too much from my life. No, I don’t want to get married and have four children, maybe I don’t even want to get married at all. May be I don’t even know what exactly do I want. But I just don’t want this feeling- the feeling of being desperate, the feeling that you can’t even name your problem, I don’t want to be that person who loses her personality, who just becomes a person who can be called on.

I cannot begin to think what it would be like to live where you don’t have anything to think about. Can you imagine, me, having nothing to think about?

I have always said, I have unending questions, that I am seeking answers, that I am searching for myself. This I can live with, a quest that might not end, where I am still searching for myself. But I might not be able to live with the question, “Who am I?” It is not even about living with that question. I don’t ‘want’ to ever live with that question.

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