Relativity

“Well, you don’t know me; I hope you understand this…”
Your turbulent echoes climb up the walls
of the well beneath which you’ve bricked yourself.
Nearby, a thick rope lies waiting for my validation.
Am I to pull you up from the rabbit hole
in which you’ve chosen to sink your soul?
I let it down; it slips and slides
It cracks my palm; they bruise and are sore.
But you ignore my little advance of help and
I watch the rope swing right and left.

Beneath you, what floors this well is sludge,
you might be stuck in a frenzied limbo
or should I call it
hunger for self-undoing?

Then, your dark little voice rings out again,
“Did you see the groove in my shoulder yesterday?”
I didn’t. You continue on,
“I’ve dreamt of pouring wine into that hollow,
You said there was no need for sorrow,
But how can emptiness not beg to follow?”

Your little voice is taking a lyrical turn.
I detest my inability to read you,
like the grimy pages of those children’s books,
yes, the ones you used to pore over.

Oh! I tire; it is past bedtime.

Perhaps if I leave you to your depressive whim,
then, you might be cured of your ugly disease,
come to your senses and ditch the insufferable lyrics.
Perhaps, you’ll see yourself out of the well before dawn.

Clearly, you do not seek my help.

But, try to speak a language I’ll sympathise with.
Maybe I’ll understand you more if you quit
this boring game of hide and seek,
where your only site of concealment is an out-of-touch pit.
Try, not to cover up your tear-smudged words
with a rhythm so sad, it lulls me to sleep.
You should stop hiding behind this unrelatable mask,
you’re slowly becoming a psychological knot.

I wait, impatient, with the rope, still in hand, swinging
over your downturned head and the silence floating between
your depth and my height.
I can’t relate to the sourness you’ve stitched into a nightly apparel.

My hands are sore and I should leave for bed now—
Since I don’t know you.

Author’s Note:

My poem, “Relativity” dives into the emotional gap we find between people. Specifically, it tries to capture what happens when one person reaches out, offering a hand to someone else lost in their own emotional turmoil. ‘Relativity’ points to those different viewpoints that create a profound “height” and “depth” between us. Though, there is a huge gap, we still try to voice our pain. Yet, so often, we just can’t truly grasp what the other is going through.

To read more poems, click here