Rumbles dying,
She has resurfaced
Sublime, with grace
Slightly rummaged….
What is this….
The lilting steps,
She glides with ease…
Every breath swells.
From where
He ceased to be,
She broke the tangles
And averred,
That this was a decree.
Every time
He recedes,
She paves further
Only this time……
She seems Relieved
Upon a chance encounter,
A secret hermitage,
Astounding calm,
Despite the seething rage.
She warily looks within,
Like the subtle moon….
And stands besotted
As if in a swoon……
For inside the thatch,
She discovers another self–
Bent in prayer
A divine smile,
Cocooned in a shelf.
Is this her second being,
Long lost and forlorn….
Is this where she had been
Through trials and storms……
The hermitage was hers
And she had never known
Raging battles in the wild,
That is how she had grown.
She can sit beside the other self,
And pray a little awhile–
For tempests to surrender
And till the rainbow would smile.
Upon a chance encounter
This secret hermitage,
She would return to again
Because she now knows the way
Full well….
Among the wilds and the rain.
So, where do I stand.
In Triumph,
Or in defeat.
I have won my heart over;
Bruised by lethal daggers,
I have risen beyond all hurt.
Unaffected, I tread pastures.
So, do I stand in triumph
Or is my purpose defeated.
Failure doesn’t affect me,
I have a heart of steel…
And whether it is love
In your eyes,
Or a humane concern,
I cannot feel.
It doesn’t bother me
Whether you smile or fake it,
I still feel loved……
I’m still at the summit.
So, is this my triumph,
Or do I stand defeated…
yet again…..
Let us, for once
be everything but Uniform….
Let us, for once,
Look into each other’s eyes
and break every norm……
I have walked in queues,
And fought in squadrons….
I have withheld all love
Looking around for patrons……
Uniform and substantial,
Full of acceptance,
I have denied all caress…..
Looking for substance.
Let me for once,
Look into your heart….
Let me not pretend,
Be unhindered and stark.
Let me not be uniform,
Let me step out of line….
Let me look into your eyes,
Deep and sublime.
No, not yet.
I shall not reel under the pressure. The winds are cold, they bite into the very entrails……yet I hold on. The mast on my tiny ship seems to bend and stoop…..and I’m angry at it. There are others I have to feed, many who depend on the hope I nourish within. I have to stand tall and I have to stand erect. I have a ship to steer, a mast to hold on to in the storm, a sail to mend every time the storm ravages it.
No, I am not going back from here. To keep intact my sanity, I look up at the sky, then at the few smiling faces at the other end of the ship……….Oh, I’m stronger than them.
I swell with pride, I am their reason to smile.
As for me, I have to hold tight lest the storm gets the better of us. This storm outside is better than the one that rages inside……inside, yes, I dare not look there.
To admit, to confess, to go deep down into my tormented soul needs courage.
Because the concentric layers would unfold a tsunami……..impossible for any enormous and well managed ship to bear.
But here it is my ship I talk about, that has been tossed into the wild wild sea, where fathoms below lies a web of spirits, waiting to gobble us up the moment we sink a little.
Hence I write this while the harsh unruly breeze rummages through my rough hair.Just so that I know later when the storm has died that I had held on firmly, alone and strategically tough.
It is a wonder how our lives transform every waking day. The changes are obstructed from our sight and senses.This is a very powerful word and could mean the world to a receptive soul or mean nothing to a carefree spirit. When we walk in the realms of life, its prismatic views and images, we are confronted with a myriad of emotions. Some of these leave an indelible mark, forever etch themselves on our souls.
It is like you leaped into the sea and got so carried over with feverish strokes that you had no time to ponder how far you are from the shore. Only when you pause for breath in between, you realise that the shore is so far away. And you get that sinking feeling. You wonder if you could make it back to the shore with the same rhythm and energy. No, you cannot. You do swim back, full of lethargy and the loss you have been feeling. You return back to a different stretch of the shore and lie down heaving heavily, gasping for breath.
Now, imagine a relationship where you have swum with similar ease and dexterity. You are so much engrossed in going deeper each day that you don’t realise how the crutch has disabled you from walking on your own. Very soon, as the crutch is removed, you feel distant and this word hits you in all magnanimity.
And as you struggle each day to stand on your own, this word becomes so much a part of your system that you inadvertently derive infinite strength from it. This word becomes your elixir and you like a phoenix, emerge from the debris, scarred, renewed…….’distant’.
-Shalini
She had known this all the while,
and wonder never ceased to be,
At how much pleasure
Could be derived
Only through the ‘Imaginary’.
There were footprints she had treasured,
Waves she had surmounted,
To chase the horizon,
Glorified and beckoning………..
And the wonder never ceased to be……..
Just how much pleasure
Could be derived
Only with the ‘Imaginary’
In the recesses of her mind,
In the birdhouses and holes in trees,
She has dwelt among the chirpings,
And flapped wings with
The sky’s travellers….
Yet, her wonder never ceases to be………..
Just how much pleasure
She can always derive,
By falling in love, everyday,
With the ‘Imaginary’
