Kunti

A poem that explores the power of a single deep secret.

I was a girl
With a little secret trapped inside,
Begging to be let out.

I stayed silent as stone.
For voice would give it immortality;
And words would only
Catch it, capture it, crystallize its edges.

Let it remain a hazy wisp;
I’d bury it deeper and deeper,
Till it might not have
Ever even existed at all.

But Time did not suffocate my secret;
Time did not snuff it out.
She took it in her arms,
Cradling, crooning, caressing it fondly.

My traitorous thoughts, my disloyal dreams
Would not let it go.
They turned it over,
Swarming, swimming, snaking around it.

        So my secret grew 
Stronger,   Sharper  
      Starker 
Livid 
    Larger than life 
Till it was satisfied, sated 
          Settled. 
While I am tormented;       tossing,     
                 twisting, 
That formless, 
            formidable fury 
Has hardened into bars -
      Icicles - 
Whose coldness clasp my gaze. 

So now, you see, 

I am a secret. 
With a little girl trapped inside,   

              Begging to be let out. 

Kunti is a central figure in the Mahabharata, a great Indian epic.



---
April 5 2011