The Glass Tunnel
Sometimes when I wake up before I should, dreams and reality mix. Ghosts from my dreams slip into my bedroom and sit beside me. Some try to suffocate me and some just like to call for me. However, a glass tunnel separates us, we live in different realms. I can only hear them, and we can only long for each other. So, I chose to write a poem about them.
I’m wondering who could be here,
a friendly ghost sits comfortably near.
I walk about the inside of my skull
And all of you turn into me
I know it’s really hard to see
The sun holds his light into my eyes
If I scratched the walls
They’d fall into my hands
Dusting my thighs
The sea isn’t green
Life is less than I’ve seen
My pet lizard keeps calling
for me
But you say she’s mean.
–
She knows a tree
Full of birds who sing for you and me
And in this room
full of different tunes
We could sing to the moon
And I’d let you become me
And we would float across the sea
–
Looking out on the day
I always hear what you say
You could swallow a piece of me
and pretend you don’t see.
–
I had a bike
I rode it when I liked
It had a bell but no light
I almost fell off it
But didn’t lose my sight
Sometimes when you crave company, but not chatter, only a comfortable silence makes do. Imaginary friends are the only ones who truly comprehend the complexities of thoughtful silence. Most of us abandon them after weaning off of childhood, yet they still visit us. Only the glass wall we built up between our younger and adult self separates us.
-Chandrima Dey
F.Y B.Sc. Economics