Relationship

I never learned
to think of relationships
as temporary.
In the ashes of the household
the wound of responsibility
is tied with ribbons,
a world too skilled
in repairing what is broken.
I turn inward,
carrying myself within myself,
and from this solitude
a strange comfort arises.
In prayers I fear to call you back,
for from Nilpukur to the bus road
the path made me realize:
a relationship is never one’s own.
From the grasp of private thought
the world must be saved.
Let us hold the hand of God,
let us step back from this road.
Breathe once, deeply,
and let me live in solitude.
Or else let us embrace
the turbulence of the crowd.
The walls still standing between us—
let us call them our own,
or gather our factions,
march to the border,
and build the walls of civilization.
Let hands remain clasped in hands,
even in these futile spring days.
But in the hollow chest of one—
the broken bond was never repaired.
So we keep on living,
clenching teeth against teeth,
carrying every conflict forward,
keeping them alive
as if they were our only strength.