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Tag Archives: book

“Trace” – Nayana Nair

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I will trace your tears
through the meteor shower,
through the footsteps that you followed,
through the hands that you held,
through the hearts that you broke,
through the marks on your skin,
through the lost and found columns,
through the moist flower placed in you books,
through that crossed out name, on every page.
I will trace your tears
that will lead back to me.
and say what needs to be said.
An apology.
An apology that you never got.
An apology that you deserved.

“A cup of tea on a rainy day” – Nayana Nair

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RAIN

You sit beside my favorite book,
after you hand me a cup of tea.
Though I want to know what you’ve been up to,
we just look out
as we have done numerous times,
when we had too much to say
but didn’t want to.
Knowing that silence of this room
we will make us forget all of it,
one by one.

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The struggle you had to had to face
on your way here,
with streets flooded with monsoon rains;
the fact that when the doorbell rang
I was just about to immerse myself
in sleep that had evaded me for so long;
how I sat up and wondered
would it be you
and dismissed it as another dream
that would not hurt
until I go back to reality;
how you almost wanted to run back
the moment you pressed the bell;
how you looked around my room
and felt pity and relief
at same time,
for seeing that I have not changed.

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I would have made you a cup of tea
if not for my fever
and I knew you’d make me one
for you are here to say the goodbye
that you couldn’t say all the other days
just like this.
You’d ask me if I have someone
to look after me.
And I’d ask you to stay
till the rain stops,
till the water flooding the streets recede,
till we can let go,
either of each other
or our pride.

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“Sleep” -Nayana Nair

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Night Reading

It has been ages
since I wanted to sleep.
I feel tired and exhausted.
I feel an urge to dip myself
in cold cold water.
So I could get rid of this heaviness
in my soul.
I feel like running and crying
and cursing
and speaking all the stuff
that make no sense.
I do not remember the last time
when I wanted to sleep.
I sleep because I have to.

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I am not short of sleep
I am short of hours and minutes
to live my life.
I want to stay awake
and see the clock ticking by.
How pages of book sound different
when turned at the silence of night.
I mean to read poems all night
But I never seem to read enough.
Just a little.
Just enough
to remember how vast this void is
that I’m trying to fill.
How impossible this task.
How less the time.

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