I Don’t Want To Turn 20

……..an ode||

selected lyrics from Celine Dion’s ‘Encore Un Soir’ (One More Night), 2016, over an inspiring sakura pic from pinterst

‘Perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. That a few dozen hours can affect the outcome of whole lifetimes. And that when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house — the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture — must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. Preserved. Accounted for. Little events, ordinary things, smashed and reconstituted. Imbued with new meaning. Suddenly they become the bleached bones of a story.’
_______ Arundhati Roy
 The God of Small Things.

‘Thus they went on living in a reality that was slipping away..’
— Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude.

I don’t want to leave these days,
do not want them to leave me ahead.
Two decades lost so easily, slipped
through the narrows of the fists;
those days when they were still happily unmarried,
when they were not dead yet. When we were still poor
complaining about it in the dark of the blackout,
yet somehow happy about it all, giggling
together on the roof top, under a million naked celestials,
the unformed sweat-beads being cool-downed by the mild mid-summer’s night breeze, 
the heat-borne mosquitoes swayed away 
by the same
from our mostly uncovered bodies.
The rooftop area which appears so tiny now
made space for the whole family back then
in my teens,
in respect to my teen days, I guess…

You say Indian summer!
I say have you ever witnessed it?’

We were, as I said, poor,
or at least as poor as to afford a single black and white telly
for the large family that we were back then,
everybody crumbling everybody in those rare moments 
when the electricity’d have visited us and there was this old movie running.
Have you ever seen the golds of the kings and the queens in black and white?
 believe me, you won’t be able to tell.

Two decades lost so easily — 
now that home’s a house
a few habite there. Some had been married
a few dead|suicide you will say!
some left for a prosper future, some more
and more, till these hollow lives passed like sand
through the narrows of the fists.