By Megha Sood
Member-at-Large
carefully nurtured
a precariousness that takes up my being
swallow me whole, and yet I continue to live
inside this juxtaposition
of prosody and the proximity of pain:
lulled myself to sleep
to make sure that it’s still breathing
heaving chest,
moving slowly up and down
like a sleeping infant
afraid to ignore it for too long
I keep checking feverishly
a sudden rush that fills me with joy
the proof of my existence
still alive and kicking
and yet I cling to this unknown pain
afraid to let go:
to give this joy a companion
that will not succumb to this sullen darkness
of solitude and loneliness
enough to keep saying aloud
in my sullen mind
over and over again
that my joy is anything but accidental.