BANERJEE
COME AS YOU ARE WERE
grieve? who? The one who’s not lost, friend? :)
grieve them even though I can see them alive under the fall leaves?
🔊 /doʊnt/ /kænt/
see, sometimes, for they serve you not,
grieve who you don’t-can’t
desire-capacity-ability-choice
but who I see, any time, for they harm me not?
আমার চোখে ও তোমার অমঙ্গলাকাঙ্ক্ষী নয় । আমার ধারণা- ধারণা উপলব্ধি নয়- তোমার সাথে আছি-
“সত্যের” সাথে নয়। তবে, হয়ত, কোনদিন, দুজনেই সত্যের মধ্যে দাঁড়িয়ে থাকবো?
i don’t see them as your ill-wisher. my conception only- conception isn’t realization- i am with you-
i am not with “truth.” but perhaps, together, we will be with truth someday?
a less efficient system for some worldly things, now optimized, but has rejecting the system left you with no wounds?
today-yesterday––traditional efficiency-beauty. whatever you wish, but also whatever you will.
for my respect and understanding for you is never devoured by nourishment and nurture.
^ Freud
what audacity to claim to know the balance, to claim I experience you- yes! but also what love.
a parent to you, but also not. what you need, but never not what you want. safe.
your experience > you being held alive.
reverent, I bow to such love.
if devouring was ‘evil,’ then not devouring would be ‘neutral,’ but did Freud fucking suckle a child for months with his own milk to know the pain of individuation. she’s not ‘good.’ she’s ‘holy.’ sacrificing.
and I am but a deeply devout worshipper. wherever she exists, in every mother.
শুধু শিবের বুকে আর শ্মশানে নয়, চারি পাশে তোমাকে পাই, মা- বলি 'কালী, কালী'
not only on Shiva’s bosom and the cremation grounds, everywhere thou art mother- and I say ‘Kali, Kali’
my love for you, beloved- attentive, but never all-knowing. confident, but humble.
those who hurt you with excess, perhaps never wanting to- you forgive.
but what you forgive, you don’t need to consume.
my mother is friend first, mother second. it’s the most beautiful thing i know-
the safest. her- the bravest, most selfless
beloved, as we gift each other shadow work in intimate communion, the pain will cut through us like glass shards.
like it did our mothers.
I am more scared than you could imagine; but also not.
I know the paradise that shore is, once you brave through the black waters.
can we swim together, through those scary waters, through that searing pain?
beauty is sublime- of its own accord, not on legs of efficiencies.
and how beautiful a face I see of yoursterday. I hold it in my hands in helpless admiration,
sad to see your shame, to see you glance away.
I kiss that face gently with love, as one would Christ’s robe.
passion left at the door, lest I mark you unbeknownst.
থেরাপিস্ট,
তবে বন্ধু
therapist,
but friend
* the text is still under significant revisions