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“Laughing it off” – Nayana Nair

I jokingly said that I would hate it
to be someone else-
someone who would have to suffer me.
But before my face realizes what my heart meant,
where it becomes apparent in my eyes
that I am nowhere near recovery,
before I panic at being taken seriously,
someone cuts me off
with laughter,
with agreement,
with proofs supporting my observation,
with a list of my faults I may have missed,
with an funny anecdote about
about the time I was too broken to think straight.

-x-

I wish I had not broken into laughter when I put myself down.
I wish ‘laughing it away’ was a trick that worked in my life.
I was never mistaken that ‘tricks’
changes reality, builds back and heals
all that is in pieces and all that is in pain.
It’s just a way to turn blind to what I cannot change.
But walking blind is worse than I had thought.
I keep colliding with harmless words, bruise myself,
and recoil back in the fear of what I may find
if I took a step forward.

“Give Up” – Nayana Nair

You’ve taught me
that I need not be only one thing
and suffer because of it.
That my identity need not be something that traps me
and stops me from doing what I want
or change my mind about what I want.
That I could melt in love
and still be as strong as I wanted to be
if not for myself, then at least
for the sake of the ones that I love.
That I can choose even failures
if that’s what I really wanted
that I could give up,
and by giving up,
by stopping to tend to my wounds
I was not letting anyone down,
especially not myself.

“Just Poems” – Nayana Nair

My mind that understands
is chained and crippled by its understanding.
It only tries to understand new words
by comparing it to
what has already written or read.
It only understands feelings in terms of
the pain it has given
or all it has suffered.

-o-

So when I stand in front of the doors of a poem
feeling the sting of December winds on my back.
When I ring the doorbell
and hear from other side “May I come inside?”
I immediately know that this not something
that I understand,
that there is a difference
in reading as if
sitting on the couch in a stranger’s house
waiting to be entertained
and reading as if
I have let the stranger in my own mind
and allowed him to change
the view I have of this world.

-o-

Some poems are not just poems.
They are voices that never die
because they have never been born.
They are ghosts that we have always wanted to haunt.
They are names we give to our own suffering,
a closure that only we can give to ourselves.

“Afloat” – Nayana Nair

I find myself more broken that I was before.
I find myself praying to every deity who did me wrong,
who never cared,
praying that they changed their mind,
hoping that maybe today they will find me pitiful enough
and finally see me as one of their child.

-x-

And while they continue to stay silent and cruel and distant,
I tell myself that they are doing this for my own good,
that all love cannot be the same.
But these days
I can’t even believe these words
that kept me afloat for so long.
So now, I have found another lie to tell myself
that “everyone suffers like me”
and though it is enough to stop me from tearing up
but the pain doesn’t pass,
and it is no one fault but mine.
That I continued to need the love
that didn’t need me back.

“Reflections in Failure” – Nayana Nair

I realized in my failures
that I was not nearly as good as I thought I was
and whatever I am was not worth that much
at least not in my own eyes.

And nothing I did could change anything
unless I could see the significance
of what I am and what I do.

I worked hard.
I lost sleep.
But my efforts to become worthy of my dream
turned out to be too less.
I turned out to be too less.

But somehow I was relieved to see
that even when I was empty-handed
I knew how to find my way to the beginnings
and start again.
So I couldn’t pity myself in that moment
but feel almost an admiration for this person
who didn’t know how to give up.

“Unlocked” – Nayana Nair

You can come near.
I look different, don’t I?
All my words sounds unconvincing, don’t they?
A bit shabby, almost a contrast to my past,
I know.
But would you believe me if I tell you
that there is something in all of us
that never changes.
The one thing that we chose to be
in spite of all
we have to loose for its sake.
For me that was being your friend.
Even when my skin became paper-like,
even when my heart hardened,
I put all my will and all my effort
in keeping that one door unharmed and unlocked
through which you an come back
and see the me who has not changed.

***

Dear,
I was never good at waiting
but still I have learned.
Your absence has taught me
what nothing else could.
Though it doesn’t make me better or worse,
at least it makes me better suited for you.
I believe we can change
and stay the same
at the same time.

“Muddy Eyes” – Nayana Nair

How much of the sorrow
that floats on the surface of my muddy eyes
are actually the remains from broken bonds?
How much of it
are the soaked and decomposing paper planes of love
that never made it to my heart.
I write down again
all the things I must not forget,
everything that neutralizes my mistakes,
brings them down to the scale of what others have done.
I make it through this life
by remembering only those who told me
that I worthy of love in spite of selfishness.
Conveniently erasing the moments when they were proved wrong,
erasing how I walked over their hearts
when they no longer loved me,
when they saw that I may need love
but won’t be changed by it or for it.

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