the wishes that we bury

our lives are but recurrences of our memories
and our memories are the future of thoughts
and events and touches that we refuse to let go.
that we refuse to bury under a heap of dirt.
And even if we do, we plant a sapling.

We say we know it's not gonna live..
but we water it every day..
and we are wary of the birds that pluck at it.
We are wary of strangers that might trample it...

And when on a sunny morning, a yellow flower blooms
we relive the pain of what was buried.

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Hiraeth

At the end of the disaster that swept Our streets with the twilight And seeped into our hearts Like the moonbeams, What remained was a patch of purple On my dress. It was not your purple... It was of a mindful kid who drew blossoms of lavender on everything On my copies, my walls My dress. Yet why does a purple patch Like the twilight And the disasters Remind me of times That never were.

A CONVERSATION WITH THE ZEROETH DIMENSION

(1) It used to happen around this time of the year. A friend’s shadow peeped into my room. It kissed my diaries, played with my pens, Danced upon my desk… as if to remind me of his camaraderie with them. as if to assure me--- ”The winters past, life is here to stay” The chiaroscuro of broken shadows and the sun filtering through its leaves silently sat through whatever I had to say. Scribblings of my would-be-poems; secrets and distorted thoughts childish whims that crossed my mind… …he heard it all. But what he heard the most were my fears-- Fears, which needed no solution. Fears, which had no solutions. But Fears that needed to be spoken to . If there were those nights of dark and murky fears, there were sunny days too. There was a day when I first fell in love. And to m...

you should have been there..

I was dealing with depression and family responsibilities, yet trying to heal from trauma but you chose to leave me right then. Right when, I was gathering up courage , courage to finally owe up to a 7 year slow burn for you, waiting for you to finish your career goals when you left me. And not even a word before the final hour. Not even a warning , but a blow. I have loved you since the first day I met you.. since the first trip I took with you. Since the time we stared at a moonlit mountain together. You were a rock, my anchor. The day it all ended, I told my friend... I feel like a rudderless anchorless boat.. As I suffer through my personal troubles now, my failing health, I wish .. and I rage.. and I scream internally... YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN HERE. And although you never promised anything, it seems weird now that it was all me and zero of you in there.

THAT WHICH GOES UNSAID...

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