Thursday, September 4, 2008

Touch me not

All my life I wished to be touched
Every time I saw someone I thought of their touch
Time and time again every movement and moment became a disappoinment

What was wrong with me?
Was it my looks, my colour, my clothes or lack of them?
Was I not capable of attracting anyone to me?

Hope turned into despair
Hard feelings turned to excruciating pain
Life turned into death

So desperate was I for touch
That I would go into the fields and run my fingers
Over the grains and flowers, spread them on the soil and dip them in the streams

And then someone came
But so distanced was I from anyone’s touch
That I ended up muttering ‘I don’t want your touch’, ‘I don’t want your touch’

2 comments:

Vin said...

hmmmm fr, i got the feeling that a leper has written this..whom did you have in mind? the diseased ppl living on the streets?

Fr Jerry said...

This is about people who are denied the beautiful act of human touch. You don't have to be a leper to experience this in India. India is a country which is deeply embedded in caste and class divisions. I have always felt that Jesus himself addressed this issue and made people at the margins feel accepted once again. So, this is a poem about everyone and anyone who is denied touch. The denial of touch goes to such a level that finally when we put out our hands, they won't be able to accept it because of years of isolation.