Madhuri Nagaraj, Disenchanted

Yesterday I went blind.
No sudden crush of ebonied night
Under which fractured stars emerge
No molten terror that does shift and spit
over fettle, through weathered gorge
No such desperate reveal
No such merciful source

Yesterday I went blind, and it did all to mystify.
For as a subtle shadow, ennui did creep
from lateral confine.
With the ache of a quiet brook
that did stretch and seep
over field, over vision of mine
No means to escape
present details do obscure.
To render all that was gold and shining,
now a muted watercolor gray

Disenchantment, you fickle figure
You dare look me in the eye.
That once admired, now mocking organ
Threatens abandon hope.
I succumb, bound behind lids wearied
Scoring walls to count my time
Heavy heart sustaining…
beat aloud, carve echoes in silence blind.

Madhuri Nagaraj is a young doctor who moved to Dallas to take the next step in her career in general surgery–working everyday with data and numbers and facts, but never able to shake the need to write and create feelings and emotions through poetry. And while work fulfills her, poetry feeds her.