So today, there was a large housefly that appeared out of nowhere in my house and as I impulsively struggled to kill it, I ended up throwing a huge blow at it with a thick stack of newspaper. As I hit the housefly, I accidentally also hit the ornamental bell at my kitchen that resounded with a large CHIME as the fly dropped dead onto the kitchen desk. Out of the fly, burst a portion of wriggling mass–baby maggots. I was on the verge of puking as my dinner lay on the table close by.
Anyway, as I was reflecting on this little situation, I was also inspired to write this poem below:
‘Fear makes a Run’
A whirring ugliness spun around me. Fly,
it did—I had no handle over it
A gathering fear enstrangled my heart. Deny,
I begged but the truth is always lit
An obliterating mass now settled by my side to Villify.
Aye! To wring all of my grit,
shadows turn away when my face is to the Sun
darkness is belittled when Hope makes a run
serpents shudder at the sound of the
Drum that hums run, run
Written on the 12th of November, 2014
A friend of mine commented in response to this:
“So I too shall contribute a tribute to the fly:
Your dominant grotesquery
has never been a mystery.
Your regular annoyance is now history,
but you are remembered…
through linguistic artistry.”
Honestly, I was happy to see how a little fly could stimulate such an exciting literary exchange! The very fact that I could write about a fly was because I saw the housefly as a symbol of the dark times and sufferings that I had especially faced for the past three years. Killing it, was cathartic to me–as if I was walking towards the light and stepping away from that troubling past. Writing about this, was even more liberating. I was able to find a settling peace.