Static

by Nitin Lalit Murali

I called my father today and told him that his death

will give me closure.

“Why don’t you jump off the balcony

while I’m talking to you? You’ll do us all a favor,”

I said, seething with rage.

Echoes of abuse never become whispers;

the past lies mangled like the hind leg of a deer

in the mouth of a lion,

the future is as cut up as paper put through

the shredder,

a voice in the dark

that’s as sharp as a blade screams, “Injustice!”

But does that give me a right to become the very man

I detested growing up?

A tormented, tortured, theatrical fool,

a disgruntled, discontented, disgusting do-nothing,

an uneasy, unstable, unsettled madman.

I wish there was more to life than

looking at my shattered reflection,

I wish there was more than drowning

in a green abyss of self-loathing and hate,

I wish there was someone who’ll love me

unconditionally and help me purge the

anger out.

But I’ve realized that this arid valley of dry bones

is the only place I’ll ever know.


Nitin Lalit Murali is a poet, flash fiction writer and essayist from Bangalore, India. He also enjoys reading literature of different genres and listening to jazz and neo-classical music. He started writing seven years ago and art has consumed him over the years. He blogs regularly at Fighting the Dying Light

12 thoughts on “Static

  1. “I wish there was someone who’ll love me

    unconditionally and help me purge the

    anger out.

    But I’ve realized that this arid valley of dry bones

    is the only place I’ll ever know.”

    There is. It’s you! I have felt this way for a long time, so I’m not just being sanctimonious nor am I talking out of my arse. Redressing the balance is the hardest thing to do, and it often feels impossible to achieve, but it is possible. I know you may have heard the old chestnut “love yourself first” before and, trust me, I have felt like punching those perky fuckas in the face, but YOU have the power to not repeat history. The love of a good anyone can help, but you have to forgive you first (and him if you can). Okay, so that second part is REALLY hard, but it was only once I (kinda) forgave mine that I was able to move forward on myself. I know I’m rambling and it may not be what you want to hear. Tell me to fuck off if you want, but I had to write it out loud. Ya know? x

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you so much for such an insightful comment. I find it very hard to forgive my father. There was a period three years ago when I came close to forgiving him, and went to him without rage in my heart, but it landed me in the mental institution. Since then I’ve been weary. The problem with him is that he doesn’t acknowledge that he’s done anything wrong. But you’re right. The answer is me and I’ll have to forgive myself first. Maybe them, one day, things will be different. You’re not rambling at all. I’m glad you commented. It’s always great hearing from you x

      Like

      • I do not understand parents who can’t acknowledge things they’ve done wrong. My son and his dad have no relationship because of this too, but it has affected my son so much. I see the same pain in your writing, I think, which is why I feel compelled to respond to you.

        Liked by 2 people

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