March…

nature-sunset-person-woman.jpg

It is March,

The month of her Spring,

When a soothing cold breeze…

Whiffs away the demons within.

 

It is March,

The season of her smile,

When every flower beckons at her with…

A promise divine.

 

It is March,

The return of her being,

When gushing daisies…..

Rustle and bespeak perforce,

Words of true love.

 

It is March,

The echo of her soul,

When valleys smile…

Enamoured by her will,

And demure persistence.

 

— Shalini.

Whose Fault is it Anyway?

Often, as today it is, the mind stands in conflict with the heart. Today is a pleasant day, looks good ahead too.

Human reach to its impermeable suburbs is profound. We think we know it all and will never ever succumb to situations which shake our faith in our powers. Yet we give in. We give in to fears, trepidation, unseen dangers, predicted horrendous outcomes and an unfathomable afterlife.

In all this, wrong decisions are taken, wrong paths are chosen, wrong words are said and sometimes wrong tears are wiped! Why do I say that?

Well, that is what I am to write about.

Incorrect direction of sympathy towards people who did not need them in the first place. You needed it badly, but in giving it to someone else, you felt satiated, sacrificial and weirdly complete.

Then, if insensitivity and narcissism tore you within….

Whose fault was it anyway?

Does it even matter then, that you gave it your all?

Does it matter at all that you were emptied of your core?

Does it even matter that you dissolved like salt?

Does it even matter that your world was actually in their globes?

Does it then matter that you existed like a speck in their sky?

What does matter though is the emptiness that is purely yours….and not theirs to share.

What matters now is to stop being the empath you were.

What matters is not the fact that you were at fault.

What matters…

Is, that it was nobody’s fault.

What matters…

Is that you, your sky, your earth

Is still yours to claim.

It does not matter if they left or if you pushed them away…

But it definitely does matter that your halo –

Your SANCTUM

Is purely yours TODAY

I was…

I was…
Living each day as it comes,
With everything falling in place.

With words on the periphery
Stationed in the throat…

The climb uphill was nasty
It took a while to shrug delusions.
The summit too,
Farther than yesterday…

The scaling won’t stop
Not for all the unseen slips
Along the way…

Some days the trek is better
When rainbows intersperse the inward eye…
Hues so well defined,
As if,
Real, but too…
Undermined.

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