why do i live here
in this key-
holed place?
the lock always unlocked,
and grooves unmatched in their
slick gestures,
welcoming in ignorance,
the key of kinship
bearing weights.
i don’t carry bread
nor its baskets,
i remain a shadow of
5-letters,
holding my name…
— a butter-knife —
spreading relations,
consuming every morsel
of belonging.
.
© Anmol Arora 2018
Image source
For With Real Toads’ Camera / Flash 55
Also linking it up with the Poetry Pantry at PU
***
I have been working on a new Insta handle for about 2 months now, for literary and creative posts: @anmol.ha.
For contact, you can reach out to me through my multiple profiles, enlisted here.
HA's Place 
every morsel of belonging.. do we stay locked up in ignorance in shadow because we need to belong somewhere and not belonging would be a terrifying concept? So many thoughts, reading your poem….
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We all strive to belong after all — our relationships are often built around that idea, even the ones bequeathed to us by birth are carried on for that purpose.
It’s a thought that leads to other thoughts. 🙂
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Yes especially the ones handed to us…. is no man an island for real?
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There is a lot of emotional content in these lines.. fully realized in 55 words – that is so well done.
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Thank you, Kerry. That is very considerate of you to say. ❤
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Keeping the lock unlocked shows a kind of trust in one’s surroundings, I think. I like the idea of a butter knife, as you expressed it in this poem….spreading relations rather than butter and consuming every morsel of belonging, other than bread!
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Having written the bread and basket metaphor, I went with the butter-knife imagery to create a homely feel to it — it’s all about family and the underlying relations there forth.
Thanks for your comment, Mary! 🙂
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Your opening question—Why do I live here?—could reasonably be asked by every person on the planet. What a wide array of answers there are! And to be honest, I’m not sure the poet answered his own question. Did he?
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There is no answer perhaps — if there is one, it is rather elusive to the poet’s need for resolution. 🙂
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The person himself is the answer to the question of why, no further imperative is needed, you are why enough. Lovely poem friend, and you are right, home and connections are a blessing, better to wield a butter knife than a sword.
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My new favourite!!! this is so abstract, yet as reader I sense its profoundness. Adding this link to my Listing of Favourites
Happy Sunday Anmol
Thanks for the music too
much love…
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Thank you so much, Gillena! ❤
Abstractions help build the feeling sometimes, if not the direct interpretations/meanings.
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This reminds me of how I was always misunderstood by my family when growing up … and long afterwards.
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Just kept reading this–the music was the perfect background to slow down, read a line, read another line and let each one flicker in the imagination. 🙂
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I am glad that you enjoyed reading with the music. Thank you!
Would you please share a link back to your blog/post? I’m unable to pay you a visit. 🙂
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Your closing lines especially have impact. Well done, HA!
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You can only get that far by leaving your doors unlocked… sometimes you need commitments from your guests… a poem of so many layers.
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the abstracted made concrete and abstracted again –
this is an interesting way/approach to the idea of belonging – or the sense of not, especially when it’s family – and I like how you’ve essentially taken one of the “big and burning” questions – and presented it, and then dropped right into the idea/image of bread, butter, knives etc. – a domestic scene of sorts, and then, we can abstract into the idea of family – and either/or nourishment, for the soul and body – as it is/isn’t.
I like the experimental feeling in this
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The relationships, that exist in and as a result of a family, are filled with conundrums — there are multiple facets (sometimes contrary) that define their nature and impact. I am re-reading Roy’s The God of Small Things and came across the bit where she points to the fact that it is family members who poke you through their words/actions exactly where it hurts the most.
Through abstractions, I wanted to create that abstract idea/feeling of a family. I am glad that you picked on the approach of presenting a domestic scene through the most primary motifs and therefore setting this stage for a concluding commentary.
Thank you for your thoughtful comment, Pat. 🙂
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Oh, hell, I totally understand about ‘family’ – my family owns the trademark of “fun” in dysfunctional – and I mean “toxic” – completely “toxic’ – so I can appreciate the depths to which you’ve only begun to reference the “madness in the complexity” of these ideas.
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One word, phenomenal! ❤ Reading this poem I strongly get the feeling of one wanting more from life .. of daring to take risks no matter what the consequences. Do we as individuals really belong in the settings/circumstances in which we are put in? How far is one willing to go to change his fate? One can’t help but wonder while “consuming every morsel of belonging”… 😊
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Thank you, Sanaa, for such a lovely comment! 🙂 ❤
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My favorite part of your poem is the butter knife. It is symbolic in many ways. How thick or thin must spread our words, our life, our souls? I thought of warm bread which makes the spreading much easier to do. How much of ourselves must we give to belong? Sorry, to say I do not have the answer. I think there is more to ponder here than meets the eye.
“Spread your warmth and others will feel it”
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So much here – between the lock and the unlocked – wonderful nuances to kick about and linger in. Really, a brilliant little piece.
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Thank you so much, Wendy! 🙂
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Something about the butter knife, the name and the lock makes me think the mystery is picked.
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The butter knife. What an excellent symbol. It reminds me of hospitality and sharing and the unlocked locks. Trust is so hard to give these day and yet…. I do not have sound on my computer.
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Leaving the doors unlocked used to be a normal for folks in the less populated parts of the U.S. Now we don’t always trust relatives let alone strangers. And yes, we generally have a what we call our family matriarch. Until my MIL died, she was it, the keeper of the peace.
..
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This took me back to Britain in wartime when our doors were unlocked as how else could kids get back inside after school with both parents working? There was nothing of value to steal in the house in any case. Eventually the key would be tied at the back of the letterbox so we haul it up with our fingers but the war was over by then.
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when despair is a song of wild but steady drums, you, my friend, walk with the rhythm. It means something!
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“consuming every morsel of belonging” Leaves us no place to fit in. Wonderful!
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Anmol, picking a lock with s butter knife, now that’s a cool trick. 💜💜💜 this!
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