“Ocean” – Nayana Nair

There are more clouds and more rain in world
than we could ever account for in our plans.
The oceans we see today
are graves of people who could never imagine the blue
they are surrounded with today.

“Becoming This Person” – Nayana Nair

. When the pain hits my face
.                                                                 (those hands used to the have the softest touch)
. my skin would have broken up in the ugliest ways,
.                               if the same hands wouldn’t have rushed
.                               to cradle the crying me
.                                             without losing a second.

.                                                         The pain was gone as soon as it came.
.                           This skin has a way of healing
.                            that seems to me as
.                                                an unfaithfulness,
.                                                a betrayal.
.       As if, even my body
.       didn’t want to leave any evidence
.                           that could justify my tears and my mistrust.

. I have again invited the pain, the consequence
. of being “broken too many times”.
.                                                    The word “broken”
.                                                               seems like a shiny ornament
.                                                               that is meant to distract my eyes,
.                                                                                                                                 my eyes
.                                                                                      that are anyway not capable
.                                                                    of seeing things for what they are.

. I no longer trust my mind
.                            that doesn’t know
.                                            the reason for the anger (that I awakened in others),
.                                            the disappointments
.                                                      written in neon lights on the darkening faces,
.                                            that doesn’t have any account of how I ended up becoming
.     a person
.                            this bad,           this wrong,                 this fragile,                 this cruel.