It is a state beyond understanding

In which words

Lose their relevance

There is no need for grammar

So, now, between me and my God

There is no dialogue

Nothing to be said, nor any complaint.

Dr. Jernail Singh Anand, a renowned poet and writer from Chandigarh, India, shares his mystic poetry

Dr. Jernail Singh Anand, based in Chandigarh, is an Indian poet and scholar credited with 170 plus books of English literature, philosophy and spirituality. He won great Serbian Award Charter of Morava and his name adorns the Poets’ Rock in Serbia. He was honored with Seneca Award LAUDIS CHARTA by Academy of Arts & Philosophical Sciences, Bari, Italy 2024. He is Founder President of the International Academy of Ethics and conferred Doctor of Philosophy (Honoris Causa) by University of Engineering & Management, (UEM) Jaipur. Email anandjs55@yahoo.com 

Biblio-link: https://sites.google.com/view/bibliography-dr-jernal-singh/home   

BEYOND UNDERSTANDING

I used to indulge in long talks

With him.

Still when we got up

There was much which remained

To be resolved

And we would start a dialogue

As soon as we met

The extent of non-understanding

Was so shockingly wide

We would take to messaging

And phone talk

And even video calling

All in an effort to explain

Things which stood between us

And remained unresolved.

At last, one day, it happened.

I had understood everything

He wanted to say

And he understood me

What I had to say in defence of me

Since then, there is holy silence

Between us.

It is a state beyond understanding

In which words

Lose their relevance

There is no need for grammar

So, now, between me and my God

There is no dialogue

Nothing to be said, nor any complaint.

Words cannot cause confusions

Nor spaces cause stress

He understands me,

And I know what he wants of me

We are in silence

No words can decipher, nor describe.

***

Soul searching

HOBNOBBING

The man who lived on rent

Got the hint

I wanted him to vacate

My room,

And he started hobnobbing

With others

In search of a new home.

There was nothing wrong in it

If he won’t try,

Where he would go

Once the contract with me is over?

He often called my house ‘my house’

And I, as often, laughed at him

And let it go.

God once stopped me

And asked me ‘is it your house

That you call ‘my house’?

I was stunned

Was I too on rent?

Only it was paid lump sum

In the beginning.

When I fell fatally ill,

I often found myself nearly dead

My soul would leave me

And move about

Searching for a new home

So that it could leave me

When it has contracted a new house.