“Calling” – Nayana Nair

my heart-
i wish for its sake
that i don’t make it through this sadness.
for its sake i don’t want to forget nor forgive.
anyway, the next love
will just be the same story with new actors.
except me.
me-
like always i would give myself up
for lives of those who are better than me
and put my heart on a pedestal for caring too much.

i have a calling it seems-
of turning humans into weapons,
of advertising myself as an ideal victim,
of creating pain with numb hands
of making this pain immortal, an absolute.
this pain
that won’t even destroy me properly.

5 Comments

  1. ‘of advertising myself as an ideal victim,
    of creating pain with numb hands
    of making this pain immortal, an absolute.
    this pain
    that won’t even destroy me properly.’

    I think this is more a reflection of your poetry at times, we write to create and support an image. I am not sure I see myself, as the reader, as weapon, you might have to explain that to this aging brain. Maybe I am odd, I don’t see pain in the poetry but intriguing glimpses of an intelligent being whose expression is refreshing in its difference. Are you still hoping to pursue your idea of teaching? Your insight would be very helpful for students.

    1. “of turning humans into weapons”
      -I feel sometimes when we are speaking of our grief, when we voice our pain, knowingly or not we end up blaming someone for it. We reduce them to cruel people who are hell bent on ruining others. There might be people like that, but I don’t think everyone is like that. “you gave me this pain”, “because of you i had to suffer this”….such expression we make it seem that the other person lives solely with the purpose of hurting others, that this other person is nothing but a weapon.
      Though I myself do this to a lot of extent. Sometimes I think that the people who end up hurting others have their own pain, own past, own circumstances. And it is just convenient to blame someone else.
      Interacting with this world always result in sorrow for me, but that in itself doesn’t mean that the world is bad.
      I am not sure if I am explaining it well.
      Sort of like, even though I am sad and I am blaming others for it, some part of my heart wants to see their reasons as well. Some part of me wonders how I can be so unbothered with the issues the other person might have.
      I may be writing about pain, but I want to create an understanding of the pain, it’s causes, our reaction to it. The mirror (if the reader related with what I have written) or window (if the reader feels like they are looking at someone’s life) that my poem is pens sorrow, to create compassion and understanding.
      That’s my aim at least. I am not sure, how successful I am at that.
      But I am really glad that you liked my work πŸ™‚
      Thank you πŸ™‚
      (I have kind of given up on the idea of teaching. It is just something I wanted to be once. Not in a sad way. Just ‘i have moved on’ kind of dream.)

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