There really IS… something

By Aparna Pallavi

There really IS, O Beloved, Something
That can never be lost.
That is yours, for all eternity
There really IS the Love,
That you so fear is not there,
And yet it can’t
Be just owned either, like you own your wallet or your phone,
Or earned, like a house or car, by patiently working to pay instalments.
You can only inhabit it,
Like you inhabit the air around you or the sky that surrounds you —

Only you don’t —

In fact, you will always be hungry for it
Even though you know somewhere it is yours,
Always be in terror of losing it,
Till
You have sat down and,
Like a cat, patiently,
Licked all of yourself hair by hair,
Wound by miniscule wound,
And loved it all, ugly and beautiful,
Wounded and whole.
It will never be yours,
Till the day
Someone points a finger
At the ugliest, most hurt part of you,
And you can say, with a smile,

“Yes,
That too is me.”