Freedom from the insult of dwelling in a puppet’s world

Freedom from the insult of dwelling in a puppet’s world, in an unword
That grants you sanctuary from fire and from
The smell of salt as it lunges forth from this
Slice of the world, where it lodges on the seams of a restored yesterday, punishing each inch of flight
With an unroot: the unearthed limp of the master’s glib filch of unfaith.


“Freedom from fear is the freedom I claim for you, my Motherland!

Freedom from the burden of ages, bending your head, breaking your back, blinding your eyes to the beckoning call of the future;

Freedom from shackles of slumber wherewith you fasten yourself to night’s stillness, mistrusting the star that speaks of truth’s adventurous path;

Freedom from the anarchy of destiny, whose sails are weakly yielded to blind uncertain winds, and the helm to a hand ever rigid and cold as Death;

Freedom from the insult of dwelling in a puppet’s world, where movements are started through brainless wires, repeated through mindless habits; where figures wait with patient obedience for a master of show to be stirred into a moment’s mimicry of life.” – Rabindranath Tagore

2 comments on “Freedom from the insult of dwelling in a puppet’s world

  1. Sonya Kassam says:

    Wow! How did you do that? Feels like a shadow to the original poem. Beautiful.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s