The sequential dream I made of an abacus i I try to count One two three four five six — Learning calculation, Take that one bead I found And plus one more around There you are, it makes two digits. On my wooden abacus I slide the beads, Red Blue Yellow Green — Learning calculation. There pops out the numbers in colours, In my twinged mind filled with confusion. The sum of all that gives what’s equal Trying to confuse my mind even more, I and the world of digits don’t get along very well, I prefer the formulations That emanate from the alphabets. ii The arithmetician tried to show me The realm of all his calculations — Ideas that intersect to make a web, The power of the alphanumeric. But my mind dreams in images, Which is so much less boring Than the mathematician’s integers; But then, what secrets link those that see Beyond the forms of things, Spit out, beyond the numbers, Chewed out, beyond the sentences. iii There I stood, pale and incensed With my mind blowing out numbers Blowing out numbers that I can’t logicize. My mind nestle the mistake of logic, Logic that strays into that dreamer’s eyes Eyes that’s black contoured with fatigue And of the concentration to answer To multiply, equalise, to nullify. I then found that it was a nightmare — With my abacus in my bare hands I try to count, dreamily senseless. iv The abacus sits on the corner of a desk The child needs me to help with counting, My bed is still a mess when day breaks And my heart pulls out like daunt Seriously thinking that it’s no fun. I slide the colourful playful beads On the wooden abacus that still sits In a little corner of a white office Whose circled panes seem to miss The warmth of the throning sun. In the end, with the abacus in my hand I teach unenthusiastically to the curious child Some calculations that seem to bend Unrevealed matrices that openly hide More of these undone formulations. The abacus sits in the corner of a desk Alongside some books and other carnets Carnets that the child curiously open, Happy now I am, till the coming of dusk Reading merrily, holding my pen, writing. -eiravel-
😩I am very busy these days — helping my children with their lessons at home, writing, and masterminding new plans. And yes, my dreams are often very weird… most of the time with calculations, which in reality are my worst nightmare, for I have a sort of dyscalculia .