A Solitary Bench by the Sidewalk

Come sit with me for a while
I’ll listen to your story and tell you mine
I’ve seen it all, been through the storm
Watched decades of sunset and kissed by eternal sunshine
The autumn leaves slept on me
So did the wind that swayed
Faces that are faded, those who are lost
Seeking for answers, searching for a place to confide
The ones who repeat these words of solitude
“I need some time alone”
Their aura still mingles somewhere along with the evening breeze
Their story wanders waiting to be told
Cursed memories washed off
Into the timeless space
Nights with the fireflies
And flashy daylights.
People from near, people from far, came by just to say goodbye.
I met this man old and grey.
He told me things that were his last because he finally had someone to hear him
This child played around me, she patted her balloon and swung it side to side.
 She jumped around with her red balloon-like a cheerful butterfly.
Oh yes! There was this woman. She said nothing, but I knew she was fighting hard.
Hard enough to go through the finals days of her chemo.
Some days I was empty. Some nights it was a draw.
Summer winter rain and fall
Every season passed by
Every day I met a stranger
And when they were gone there was a sense of belongingness
Now here you are; listening
With a picture of me in your hand
It’s your turn now
Tell me
What’s your story?
~
The Lonely Bench


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Journal Entry
October 21st 2015
Basilica of St Xavier’s, South Goa
I will call myself a traveller. A traveller is who I am.
Somethings are better left unsaid they say, but somethings are better said without words. What we see tell us things that go unheard. People usually travel as tourists, not travellers. A traveller is someone who would have no destination in mind but the one who wants to escape from the mundane. The one who travels not to find places but to find oneself. Everywhere you go, you cross a million stories. Of things, people, places… but have you stopped to listen?
The lonely bench on the sidewalk in the middle of the City had lots to say.
Everyone has something to say, everyone wants to be heard.
My thoughts seemed heavy as I sat down there.
When was the last time you gave your time to listen to someone? I heard a void in me ask myself.
“Somethings are better left unsaid” I whispered.

A formless solitude was around me
And everything turned strange
The silence was the only word of being
Everything that was seen or heard
Now were calm and in peace
Oh, nature’s mysteries.