Authenticity

Authenticity…funny word.
Who decides what is TRULY 
authentic?

What belongs TRULY to this street corner,
to this little patch of earth, to this imagined community,
bound together 
to this illusion of memory?

Who decides that I don’t belong
TRULY
to this street corner,
to this little patch of earth, to this imagined community,
bound together with the others that live here
to this particular illusion of memory?

Who decides what it entails
to talk funny, to act funny, to 
secede
from this particular atavism 
from this particular strain of irrationality
from those daft dreams of a far-away Midnight
stamped on my passport, drilled into my head from birth,
and yet whose promises have long been bartered away?

Who decides, once Midnight and its once-hallowed promises,
once Midnight and memory
have been locked away, far from reach…
who decides, once Midnight and memory seem hermetically sealed,
unavailable even to the most desperate nostalgia,
who decides that it is treason 
to want to leave it all behind?

What is so authentic about life anyway?
Isn’t it all Maya? The ultimate, all-pervasive illusion?

I choose therefore, to strive
outwards.
To seek out an Elsewhere to underwrite my existence.
To seek in my self-evident Otherness,
in the insistence of difference,
TRUE AUTHENTICITY.

Photo Credit

Photo is pixabay public domain

Guest Author Bio
Anshu Dash

Anshu Dash is a student of Economics in Sheffield University. Writing is his passion. He is sensitive to social issues and cares about the refugees and the homeless. Much of this angst is reflected in his work and beliefs.

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