‘AN ODE TO MY INTELLIGENT SOFIA’

As with everything, every time,
when the room is empty and all is left bare.
Folks who are stretched, re-stretched, are standing or sitting now invisible
I ask alone the objects which bared or beared it all.
Are you waiting to be mounted upon?
Maybe I shall sit on you again.
Maybe it will never be the same…
You cannot go anywhere, you will die and perish.
But also won’t have a death.
…. you are alive.
As, without you, where would we relax.
Don’t stare, as if you are not tired.
So what, if you remain.
Even after everyday.
As our toes twinge and hairs grey.
We are more alive.
Though you appear eternal
…as you witness it all
So what if you are manufactured, helpless and constant,
You helped our bones, by just being there.
I would not dismiss you
I salute you for being moulded
The comfort zones you provide
Otherwise we would have to stand
Yet, you are objectified.
You have to still live daily after our long days.
Take in our bulk, while we sleep or die
So what if we materialized you
Are we the lesser gods?
Not because you remain still….
And take our weight
But because we perish with you 

———-

Painting – MY INTELLIGENT SOFIA