I guess sometimes the past just catches up with you, whether you want it to or not. – Paul Edgecomb in The Green Mile
So far as I knew,
They were bottled in the basement
In prehistoric trunks
Piled beneath unlimited cobwebs and dust.
Though I had heard
On rarest of nights
Indistinct sounds from invisible source,
Thought they were footfalls of
Vermins on lawn,
That fritter in the hedgerows in dark.
Yet they’ve burst and pummel my days
And rattle my sense of time and tense
As lone I stand in some crowded shed
Straddled with shadows that snicker and sneer
On stages where curtains had dropped.
Born from the ashes of unredeeming urn
They’ve gobbled my colours in tentacular mouths
And joined my bones to spokes of a wheel
Turning in caskets of black and white reel.
You, who shall chuckle and label this ‘vain’,
Heed, dear, calls of unacknowledged pain.
Words by Abin Chakraborty