They won’t let you in the club.
You’ll have to start your own
and let others look at you the way you did once.
So you can turn them down
With some company that you gathered
In the select twilight of your own left-outness
That sparked your journey.
Loyalties will mingle, bonds
will grow stronger
until the ship you shaped
freezes from its float
to a hard ground,
congealed like an ancient blood
With memories of those who were there when it all happened
swarming like flies on a wound.
They won’t let you in the club
You’ll form your own enclave of splendid isolation
with meandering roads that weave a labyrinth over time
spruced with hedges that will stay becoming
until time turns them into thorny barriers
or wicked walls that beckon and boo.
The wannabes, aspirants and mystery wanderers
Seeking the ways of the Other Side
shall queue up
Your glass-paned walls shall see
faces peering in
monkey-pressed in urchin yearnings
And your pity and your glory
shall keep you exalted
until time walks its walk
like it has on great nations.
© N. Madhavan, 2011
