intact, entr'acte

Amar Shah · intact, entr'acte

I asked you,
come, reside and occupy your power,
and you have done and do and did.
No longer
do I guard or guide you, castigate, cajole,
or bribe you, no longer dare I deign to bride you.
No longer dare, demand, nor deign to bride you.

Slowing, lowering my creaky drawbridge,
restoring order to the makeshift barricades,
I take my forehead to the earth and bring
me under
—under—
You wouldn't say this but,
the evil one does not submit...
so I have cast the odium away,
Call me lucky to retain my eyes,
all my body, not my pride.

ten years ago

twenty
you heard my wish to be a poet
and now
not forty
see the making of a man

what poems can do 2

poems take you back ten years
show you who you always were
poems show the world your
friends your loves and crushes
all the bastards all the boys

poems sit and wait for you
to hear them see them notice them

for that moment when they sing
off your lips, when you say

This is my poem.

and goddamn
I have to write it

What poems can do

poems can't persuade someone to love you
or disavow them from the fear of loving you
poems can't calm the rages you indulge
or erase the guilt of those you still regret
poems will not dry your eyes
won't even dry your laundry
they are poor friends
who need you more than you need them,
but still

when you take them out to coffee,
you'll pay their way
and when you speak about them to your friends,
be kind.

The first words are always hard to find.

This is a record of my physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, lattitude-and-longitudinal, verisimilitude-inal, pardon-me-if-I-intrude-inal life. Two days ago, I turned 25 years old. Two days from now, I will have returned to Ahmedabad, India, my ancestral home.[1] It has been four years since I last visited.

I have chosen to share this space--and my life--with you. You are encouraged to make your presence known, and I look forward to reading your reactions, reflections, and guidance. Moreover, you are encouraged to meet each other. It is my hope that the conversations begun here will continue in your places of residence, on top of mountains, on buses (at a respectful volume, please!), on walks, under rusty ceiling fans, at diner counters, in underground tunnels, in cars, outside unsavory places of employment, within earshot of ukeleles, under the stars, at dinosaur-themed amusement parks, over plates of fried cheese, between stalls in public restrooms, in your graduate-school seminars, and via electronic signals originating from under your bed.[2]

A few last words: Much gratitude to the many friends who have celebrated this summer with me. We have had extraordinary cause for gratitude, celebration, self-criticism, and hope. The world before us is immeasurable, as are the gifts that each of us will leave for it in our lives.

It is, as always, an occasion for first words.

[1] Because of inclement weather in Chicago, my mom and I were not able to leave today. Nevertheless, through indomitable grit and sheer force of will, we shall succeed. More on this later.

[2] This is by no means a complete list, but you get the idea.