Back to Issue 7

Tight-rope walking by Avishek Parui

  I take a step, then two, then three.
  A smile in my face
  tries to suggest
  while walking high
  I am free
  from the fear of fall...or death.

  But the truth up here
  is I smell of both.
  And each step
  is a further growth
  of life into death...death into life.
  The balancing act, my sacred strife.

  My thin long rod
  happily nods
  on either side.
  It falls and rises
  like our river's tides
  The balancing act, my sacred strife.

  The sudden gusts of wind
  are the added charm
  on my viewers' minds
  crouching in,eagerly awaiting, my fall or rise,
  as an acrobat, who walks the line
  that draws the divide...between death and life.

  As I reach each time, on the other side
  an  applause bursts, that tries to hide
  like my smile, the fear of fall...or death.
  And as I step down, into happiness
  they think I've won and I'm all life
  but I'm just a little more, of life in death...death in life.

                      The balancing act, my sacred strife.