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  • Category: Miscellaneous

    Flickering faith in the dark

    It was an incredibly dry but sunless winter
    Imprisoned in a dungeon light's forbidden to enter
    I heard the faint sound of the footsteps of "Punisher".
    He who visits the inmates to strike pain and fear.

    The reason why I am imprisoned?
    I belong to a different religion.
    They say I'm being crushed by my own sins' weight
    When this is clearly a matter of clash of faiths.

    Are they priests or are they frauds?
    What are men before their gods?
    I do have one final chance of redemption
    I need to convert and become one of them
    I'd rather die a martyr than sell my faith
    I'll be received by my Lord at heaven's gate

    I've made my decision now it's too late to turn back
    My room's door opens to reveal Punisher in his mask
    Oh! What a ruthless enemy I've gained
    He won't even unveil his face or name

    He came close and put a slit in my left eye
    His cutter made a clean incision from left to right
    Through this cut, my pious blood seep
    He's inserting his finger to make it deep
    At this point, I'm literally crying blood
    But my faith in Lord is yet undisturbed.

    He then put his index finger in
    To rip apart my eye from my skin
    Have you ever seen your eye come out? I have.
    It wasn't just physical but psychological
    attack.


    He then made my right eye suffer the same fate
    But I'll endure every pain and stand by my faith.
    I have gone blind but Almighty hasn't.
    He sees everything and sins he calculate.

    The Punisher isn't satisfied yet!
    He heats an iron rod to deep red
    He passed this scalding metal into and out of my ear
    How far am I supposed to endure endless torture?

    I've had my eyes and ears taken away
    Not like I can see in this dungeon anyway
    The following days I'll be heavily whipped
    For the one-course meal I had skipped
    I'm not privileged enough to starve to death
    After all there are still few body parts left


    The Punisher with spiked gloves, punches me in face
    He brought in a rabid dog inside and gave it my flesh's taste
    Sometimes he grips my fingers with a nutcracker
    Sometimes instead of bread he allots me faecal matter
    Now I have to eat dung. No wonder it's called a dungeon.
    But commiting suicide is against my Lord's regulation.
    Each day Mr. Punisher introduces me to a new instrument
    Oh how humans derive pleasure from torturing innocent!

    You must be thinking this went on forever.
    But all of these tortures ended by the summer.
    I am all alone in this dark,dry and hollow orifice.
    I'm blind,deaf, shackled and crippled.
    I don't even have someone to talk
    I'm just in company of my thoughts

    All of a sudden I miss Mr. Punisher
    Loneliness hurts more than torture
    I now search meaning in my deed
    I now analyse what preists preached
    What did I get from defending my invisible Lord
    I gape from a thousand holes and my skin's shred apart
    Why did I spend the reminder of my life in dungeon?
    One more bright future was destroyed by religion.

    I'm dying alone. I'm dying faithlessly.
    My unflinching belief caused me misery.
  • #610470
    Some times what we think in our mind would come out as the content with poetic best and the author has tried the same. Its always good to say in poetic way rather than a running matter. It sustains interest.
    K Mohan
    'Idhuvum Kadandhu Pogum "
    Even this challenging situation would ease

  • #610481
    Good poem. Keep on writing.
    Regards
    Chitra
    "Do not give up, things might not favour you always"

  • #610484
    Morbid! That was my exact thought, as I read through the first few stanzas. I did not read through the whole piece. It is too disturbing – too stark a reality, described in words.

    Isn't this something that is happening around us? People tortured, maimed and killed - for believing in something. This is what humanity has come too. There is no sanity, in any of this. Yet, some celebrate it.

    We stand like Pontius Pilot washing our hands of the blood of others, but truth be told, we are all guilty for every drop of blood that is drawn. Every one of us, who supports the killing of another, is a partner in the crime. Every mute spectator who watches an innocent being slaughtered is guilty of the killing and the maiming.

    The gory killings just add to the numbers – data, to be referred to, when the next ghastly act happens. Only the body can be mutilated, the soul cannot be tampered with.

    "A love affair with knowledge will never end in heartbreak" - Michael Garrett Marino

  • #610485
    An excellent dark poem which truthfully depicts the happenings around us. Go on writing.
    Caution: Explosive. Handle with care.

  • #610487
    A nice way of Expression. Faith in your belief is always guiding you to the Almighty.All injuries can be to physical body but not to your belief in God and not to your soul which is having no shape. Good and keep it up.
    drrao
    always confident

  • #610547
    After few paragraphs, it was hard for me to continue reading, appreciate your skills of writing. I could feel the pain through the lines.

  • #610596

    Your poem reminds me of the arguments of Job, from the Book of Job in Bible. Job is a very good man and does all the right things to be obedience to the Creator, and yet gets to languish deeply with the things that happen to him. His sorrow got so much that when his friends come to be with him, they say nothing for 7 days. Then Job starts arguing his goodness against an apparent failure of God to do the needful, and he goes on for about 30+ chapters. When his friends try to reason with him they fail, and give up, seeing Job was considering himself more righteous than God (also known as self-righteousness). Then God asks Job some 70 questions after which Job realizes his great error and clams up in repentance in only 5 lines in Chapter 42.
    But there is a good ending – God brings to Job twice as what he had before in all the wealth he had (in those days it was in terms of cattle and camels and donkeys etc).

    If anyone is holding on to the Lord in spite of the deep, dark experiences, there is always a reward worth many times over in compensation for what suffering they went through, so much that afterwards they'd truly say, the sufferings were nothing compared to the rewards.

    People go through severe incidents and overcome to be the champions or the best in many fields: commandos, social workers, doctors, teachers, freedom fighters, etc. in your poem, is someone who is defending the faith in the 'invisible' Lord, he does not know how much he affects his horrible tormentor to repent of his evil ways. In the time of Nero, Roman emperor, there were many people who likely went through the same things you listed, and in the end were used for 'sports' as they called it then. Such people who denied not their Lord and Savior were fed to wild animals for food in live shows in stadiums, were made to burn as lamp posts to give light to the feasts of the rulers, and more. It seemed like a loss but what happened during these events was that the ordinary people, soldiers, princes, lords, captains and generals were pricked in their conscience that they rebelled eventually against the wicked rulers and brought about a whole new perspective and understanding of the Bible. The whole suffering brought about a change for good in the end.

    Perhaps your poem is incomplete.


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