Songs of dawn resonant in her eyes
Dispelling vanities of this puerile realm
Absolute sheen in her dew lit candles
Their lambent mirage speaks who I am
Her abundant calm is the air I breathe
She walks bare feet towards my unadorned heart
When words stifle for a mere rhyme
She sends a sonata to play her part
Tell these midnight memories to fade away
Those reminiscent of longing for a pause
With the story of my dreams in your eyes
Such moonless night, let stars be the cause
The reed I hold won’t enthrall the hearers
Bejeweled hollowness creates another chasm
Like the sand that fills the mast from beneath
Let’s be a song for the virtuosos to fathom
Rape. Domestic Violence. Physical & Mental Harassment.
Biased Moralities. Prejudiced Priorities. Unwanted Principles.
The following poem is an attempt to express the feelings of a woman in pain by just being a part of our society.
No mirrors tell my story
None paint the pain I drown and die every moment in
Time doesn’t stop to know my part of the death
Introductions rot with a din
I search for heartbeats
In battered pieces of flesh, once they had a soul
Bleeding tears of carrying your disgrace upon me
A dead one with a silent yowl
Loathe me with all you’ve got
Bring all the profane grumblings, unprejudiced or unsure
I’m left with slayed dreams, you took all that was me
My only sin was of being pure
Women around us, in our societies, in our workplaces and even in our homes get treated in a demeaning manner.
Do we seek to make a better world without giving respect to our ladies ?
Broken flutes orchestrate a perfect symphony.
A tattered shroud masks the sorrows untamed.
Flowerets shiver in the cold sun masked by smoke.
For her conspicuous dreams – is she to be blamed?
Daubing her skin away from the acidic prejudice
and the sightless hunger for the innocence of her kind.
She works in a yard with the prominent in prey
as the quivering worth of a woman goes to the blind.
With a muted applause from her callous apprentices,
she carries bouquets of smiles covering her sores.
Alive in her own story of a life beyond the tale.
She hides our guiltless shame beneath her toes.
Chasing smeared promises
of an armistice in this commotion
I fought blankness in my words
and the ease in giving up crept inside, somehow.
Living on a boat, stuck in a frozen lake.
Conversing with the emptiness in my ears.
I saw mammoth towers of strength sink quietly.
I saw power of existence give way to reality.
Still, there was a willingness in my dreams
and a last leaf of hope you had given me once.
Holding on to the doors of a personal connotation
was this last verse, waiting, for me to still write.
Yes, I believed in the “me” you once told me about.
I remembered when you said
that if there would ever be a forever,
you and I would be still in love.
So, I jumped into this tomblike dark space
and brought the fight to the moments of despair.
They wounded me with their blessed corruptness
and I choked the last bit of air out of them.
Then you came and carried away
my scarred cradle of skin in your prayers.
When I thought it was all done
and the senses of my clock were half seized.
I woke up in your arms.
I woke up at home.
They talk about me
after they have torn my heart
and set it ablaze.
Yes, I am the humanity
you find butchered on the streets
They painted pictures of me
and cried in prayers
as they celebrated faith.
Yes, I am the God
you kill in the name of.
They wrote songs on me
as I was penultimate treasure
for defining the existence of all.
Yes, I am the peace
you trade for the glitter in your pockets.
They know me by a name.
A name not known to me.
When you have good things happening in life around you, you don’t really seek for explanations. Everything seems just and adequately comfortable.
I had not known Sandra for long. It was exactly a year ago when we first met. She was just seventeen then and nothing different from an average teenager.
She had plans in life. Plans to travel. Plans to paint a masterpiece. Plans to publish a book of her poems. She had plans to keep her focused towards loving her life as much as she could.
I had a tumor inside my brain for seven years before I found it out when I fainted on the escalator that evening three years ago. Three times, I got it operated but it came back again every time. It was like a destiny waiting to happen. Soon, I started losing my sight and within a year, I was technically blind.
Six months ago, after I got operated for the fifth time, I received a call from Sandra’s father. Something I never expected happened that evening.
Sandra was in the same cancer ward with me. Her blood cancer was detected in the incurable stage. For a seventeen year old, she never seemed begging for any moment of life. She was life.
Before Sandra lost her battle with her destiny, she donated her eyes to me. This was her last wish. This was her last plan.
My tumor never returned after I started seeing the world again with her eyes. She was the explanation for my life. She was the life.
Yes, I have seen angels. They are not the ones who do miracles. They are the ones who teach you to live another day.
(This short story was written to celebrate the lives of those beautiful people who donate their body parts for letting someone live again.
Also, this story is about the courage of the people who fight cancer with all the support of their family members.)
My Dear Blog
You know that I love you and you know that I know how neglected you must be feeling nowadays as I have not been visiting your adobe frequently like I used to.
You and I have a relationship where there are no compulsions on explaining things or standards to be followed. You have always given me whatever I longed for and in return, never asked for anything. This makes you more and more special everyday.
No, I have not found a new love. Life has happened. Daughters are growing and their sweet little talks keep me spellbound for most of the day. After a long time and hardwork, opportunity has finally come calling for my dear wife and I need to support her throughout this.
You are and will remain the reflection of my conscience and inner strength. Just remember – I am being with myself and would return as soon as I can.
Happy Blogging !