I still believe.
In the recesses of my heart, there is no doubt.
In my mind, I do not question it anymore.
It is a reality, and I am in acceptance.
However, it is here that I cleave.
To pursue dreams that were long before you were sought.
To become the person I always was at my core.
How these paths may converge, I can only sense.
Against destiny, I have no defense.
Moments before embracing drunken stupor,
A short while after episodes of coquetry, albeit with folks unconcerned,
To the tunes of a soulful ballad,
She thought a strange thought. An unexpected thought.
It washed over her like a wave, catching her by pleasant surprise.
She stood there watching the musing of her own subconscious.
She thought her thought without judgment.
A thought of effortlessly dying in his arms, with satisfaction.
She imagined a return to the velvet unruffled veneer that was a mystery to all, but her.
No hard feelings, no bonds of longing either,
Just a sense of eternal and fleeting love. Of returning home to-
Understanding. Affection. Sympatico.
What more could she ask for, when she had a place of love to approach the world from?
Thinking thus, she turned over and fell asleep.
I stood there. Looking left. Then right.
You walked right into my life. (Each one of you’s) Nose-to-nose, we stood.
I blinked. For a moment. An eternity captured. Like time in an hourglass.
You left. Sometimes, with promises to brb.
But the fact of the matter is, I still stood there. Left or right, still upto me.
I chose to turn right about and retrace myself back to the spot, in hopes of making sense.
Now I’m back to square one. Left or right?
I could always see the forest for the trees.
Till I was struck by tunnel vision.
Attracted to blindness, ignorance became me.
And my separateness gave away.
Reeling in a whirlpool of tinted emotions.
Here’s my heart; for lunch.
On a platter.
Mince it, pound it.
Make half of it batter.
Empty it onto a pan- watch it sizzle with vehemence.
Aren’t you proud?
Marinate the rest and let it freeze.
Then pour some hot sauce – make it scalding.
Let it shrivel under the weight of the mean spices.
Boil. Slow it to a simmer.
Take in the aroma of your deeds.
Enjoy it with gluttony. With sin on your fork.
And leave the rest out for the dog.
For what it’s worth.
But my heart is Phoenix.
She was beautiful.
Gracious host, warm of heart.
Too gentle to be envied, and loved in return.
She nurtured her kind and tended to them tenderly.
Her support is what brought out in him his purpose and its pursuit.
She spun a world of her own around her, shrouded in love and clouded by tranquillity-
Clouds that were caught in a tempest so severe and steady and unrelenting.
Such a fight was put up; a wall of hope on the nimble shoulders of affection.
It was a sight to behold, and took all those who watched in a wave of inspiration.
She was beautiful, and it could be seen cradled beneath her wrinkles and blemishes.
She was beautiful, and it could be seen in their eyes that brimmed with fondness.
But her silent courage, even as she carped, it shone through.
Her fight against living hell, for life itself.
For this, she is beauty.
I am back after a hiatus, and here’s a poem that I have written as an ode to my mother. I am of the opinion that the best learning in life comes from observing people living the message they want to send out to the world, and from my mother I have learnt steadfastness. Steadfastness that manifests as digging your heels in and standing tall when the storm comes, as being fiercely loyal to an idea or a person knowing that your belief in an ideal is all that matters and the clarity with which you hold onto it is the only warmth and encouragement you will ever get and it had better be all you need if you want to make any headway.
I have no reason to lose form now. Here’s the poem.
I bit my lips and held my tongue.
I told myself, be strong for it is time to let go.
I sang myself a lullaby but the silence wailed too loud.
Invisible arms seem to spring outward into a hug, but all I found were my knees-
I clutched them close. I must keep warm and strive for balance.
In loneliness I must find the silver chord of solitude. Of peace. Of solace.
And perhaps the soul’s own companionship, if that’s to be the case.
So I took down my boots and began work on wiring the fence,
Knot by knot, I tied it up even when they pierced through my fingers and made them bleed.
Step out I can only if I might choose to. And choose I shall, only if I felt that bold-
and always, definitely, far away from the crowds.
For in them and in their expressions, I see faces that wandered away from me,
And I await their wits to come into the know.
For those faces and smiles, as the air I breathe, are that which give me life through the function of my lungs.