Is it a curse or a blessing?
Only you know.
I have read all your books so far,
Found myself as a footnote on the chapter with stormy seas,
placid rain,
and the rest I couldn't uncover.
You should know, I have read your verses,
and only skimmed, when it had become redundant.
I only stopped when there was a comma, forged into a knife
a subtle pause,
that sliced through all you had to say.
I looked up every dictionary,
even in the pages of history books,
the content of which was beyond my personal truths.
No one referred to me,
I wasn't the outcome of anybody's penmanship,
no other theory or law could bind me,
I was so free.
But you knew how to give me clarity,
and I knew how to give you a name.
You lived under the spotlight for a lifetime,
and sometimes, unknowingly, tried to shield yourself,
because my name caused an outrage.
But you didn't edit the little footnote out,
as you took over the reins of the new edition.
You lived under the curse, while I reaped the blessing.
That was how you loved me.
Also Read: Snapshot: A poem
