in an attempt to touch the base
of my vocal chords
I cry out aloud and harsh
I caress a ball of fur
and my palm feels a hardened surface
what could cause it?
this subtle erosion in my soul
it does not hurt
it sits silent
in anticipation
of some new age emotions
that could carry me
across these clouds
shaken or broken or mended?
may be I will know
or might not know
but I know this gulp sitting right now
will never leave the base of my throat
this is made of the matter
stolen from my soul.
A television journalist turned writer I have been writing short stories and poetry for almost twenty five years. Masters in Physics and Education, turned to Television journalism and gradually shifted to full time writing. Taught physics for a year at University of agriculture. Meanwhile worked for All India Radio as announcer. Reported for “Parakh” and later worked with NDTV. Got into professional writing somewhere along the line. Have also produced documentaries for television and radio.
