WRITERS’ BLOCK by Dilip Mohapatra at Spillwords.com



written by: Dilip Mohapatra



You really don’t know
when and how
the emptiness was conceived
and grew in the limbic womb
when was it born in the
dark chamber within
and when did it get on in years
and accumulated the flab
while the flame of your dream
flickered to its slow yet
blissful death
no longer able to thaw
your creative juices
that are frigid and frozen.

The other day you were
here there and everywhere
and now how desperate you are
just to be somewhere
you walk in the wilderness
of your individual infinity
aimlessly trying to
find the light that might
obliterate the shadows
that eclipse the only way out
and lead you to the bridge
that may connect you
with the lost territory
fairly defined and finite and
that you once were familiar with.

Open your closet and
pick up the rags that
you discarded once
pick up the strips of lace
and the chequered pieces
of many colours
with polka dots of hopes
and inspirations in stripes
strewn in bits and pieces
and stitch them together.

You are back to square one
to start again.

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