Your Doing or Mine

Too tired now, to dust myself and realign for battle again, what
does it matter now if it was your doing or mine, if it was you that

manoeuvred time and space at will, whether it was I that fell or
you who let me crumble? All that has happened is like the evening

sun languishing for a moment on the window sill before the dusk
unsings its light, sit here in the warmth with me for a moment, do

you see what I have become? I knew how to laugh once, did you teach
me, I knew how to cry, did you show me, I knew how to love, did

you trick me? What does it matter if you are just a minor god, waiting
for a seat at the big table? Feel the callouses of my thoughts, their

weary legs aching for rest, their smiles buried in the sleeves of their
own undoing. What am I in the end, now that weโ€™ve walked so far,

together, alone, not knowing, now that I cannot have it ,now that it
does not matter? Tell me if I am saint or sinner, did you make me?

More poems in the “monologues with a minor god”ย  seriesย here.

69 thoughts on “Your Doing or Mine

  1. It is an intriguing thought. What if we had the opportunity to sit and speak with the physical manifestation of our God. What would we ask. What would we tell. Did you make me? Did you set all this in motion? Why did that have to happen. One another level, after walking so long I feel maybe a bit of disappointment, but maybe too that is just he questioning nature. I donโ€™t think questions are bad, and can only make the faith strongerโ€ฆor further defined.

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  2. It is an intriguing thought. What if we had the opportunity to sit and speak with the physical manifestation of our God. What would we ask. What would we tell. Did you make me? Did you set all this in motion? Why did that have to happen. One another level, after walking so long I feel maybe a bit of disappointment, but maybe too that is just he questioning nature. I don’t think questions are bad, and can only make the faith stronger…or further defined.

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  3. “. . . languishing for a moment on the window sill before the dusk
    unsings its light, sit here in the warmth with me for a moment . . .”

    Yes. Let the questions clarify the path for the abandoned and the abandoners … let this poemshine on us all. Wow.

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  4. “sun languishing for a moment on the window sill before the dusk / unsings its light, “….Such brilliance and darkness !!! Wow!!! your words are to be savored bit by bit, Rajani.

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  5. Love, love this poem. But wait… this is *micropoetry*? I am in big trouble. ๐Ÿ˜€
    I’m also writing a poem each and every day in November… come check it out?

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  6. A thoughtful monologue, Rajani, and so well-crafted, especially the way you have organised the line endings and the lines:
    ‘sun languishing for a moment on the window sill before the dusk
    unsings its light…’
    and
    ‘Feel the callouses of my thoughts, their

    weary legs aching for rest, their smiles buried in the sleeves of their
    own undoing…’

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  7. Wow – this is powerful
    Not sure exactly what you had in mind
    But it made me think of my first marriage
    And not in a wistful way
    Laughter crying love and then nothing

    namaste
    JzB

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  8. My goodness this is good! Especially touched by; “sun languishing for a moment on the window sill before the dusk unsings its light, sit here in the warmth with me for a moment, do you see what I have become?” Beautifully executed.

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