“ANTS”- Nayana Nair

roof-at-night-with-skyline

As you all walked

To your homes, to your love

To where the crowd takes you.

With love and hatred

And worries in your minds.

With life still in your veins.

I sat there, up above,

Looking down at you,

Oblivious of me, of him.

Of the knots that tightened

Around his neck each second.

While he saw everyone, even himself

Wrenching away from his grasp

The only life he would ever have.

I looked at him beside me

And looked at you down below.

And wondered whether anyone of you

Will remember his face,

Will know his life.

Maybe your hostile glance

Was the last nail that

Broke open his heart.

Someone like you planted that seed

Of self-hatred in him long ago.

I looked at his cuts and bruises

And thoughts of the nights he wrestled

With his thoughts and deeds

He wouldn’t confide nor confess.

As if he was the ant that was

Crushed beneath your boots.

And I wonder, how many other

Were still getting crushed.

Sitting there on that rooftop

With my friend

With stars above my head

And humanity below.

I saw him fall

Fall down in to the darkness.

And I cried as I lost my friend.

And he cried as he lost himself.

dfeb8718a66a5014296cad812135382b

“VIRTUE OF FOOLISHNESS”- NAYANA NAIR

images (5)

 

Feeling the cold metal at her neck

In the cramped up space where she sat,

She looked out of the window, with her mind

Far way from what reached her eyes.

 

Reflecting, how foolish she had always been,

Foolish for believing people without any doubt,

To hold onto them even if they hurt her,

To accept people for who they are but never accept herself.

 

To have let go of her esteem for them,

To have thought that they’d value her, a fraction of how much she did.

 

And she thought of everything

She had done that led her to this day,

Where people saw her as someone not worth respecting,

For each time she would let go of her pride.

Not worth the effort, for she won’t demand it,

Not worth the love, cause she didn’t deserve it.

 

But as she cried at all the hurt,

The shame, the loss and herself.

With her hand held open

Waiting for a hand to hold it.

She turned her back to the past

That haunted her, that hurt her

To look at him, beside her.

 

And she remembered how she’d

Been more of a fool for him than anyone.

How she was foolish to make

Someone centre of her life,

To love someone more than herself.

For a girl who couldn’t bear

The scars of betrayed little affections,

How could she hope to survive

The love that’d shatter her.

 

For she knew

She was nothing and could mean nothing to anyone.

So how could she mean something to him?

She knew

That if everyone saw her as a liar

How could she expect him to believe her?

She knew

That she’d lost herself the moment she chose love above respect

How could she expect him to embrace her and take pride in her?

For she knew

What she was

She was just a fool.

 

But in spite of knowing this

She accepted the love she’d found.

For a moment she found meaning to live,

And she felt glad to be there

And to have known what her life could have been,

To have felt his love,

To have known that she’ll always be loved.

Anything else didn’t matter

For being foolish was her virtue

That led her to him.

 

And when she felt the warmth of his hands in hers

And saw him smile through all his pain,

She could see that he felt he was foolish to be there,

He was her foolishness,

And she was his.

With the same insecurities in his heart,

He chose to love her as long as he can.

As long as his soul could bear this pain.

As long as his heart could love.

As long as she would love him back.

So they’ll stay together as long as their stupidity allowed.

images (17)

 

“MORNINGS, AFTERNOONS AND EVENINGS” –Nayana Nair

alone-beautiful-girl-girls-photo-Favim.com-347621

Mornings I’m up, I sit up and gaze,
To follow a train of thought, that I can’t even trace.
Afternoons are dull, with stillness all around.
I eat and lie down listening to some songs,
Or sometimes I doze off reading something,
It drowns all the voices in my head, some peace that brings.
Evenings, as usual are spent in laughter with a tea,
As sitting there I try to convince myself of what I really feel.
Its nights that are horrible for me,
As I realize how futile has my day gone by,
How I was running blindly in every direction I found,
Just to return to what I was running from.
Not to confront the loss, and its pain,
And all efforts to ignore them gone vain.
As I find my thoughts going back to then again,
To the reality there was and only loss that can be,
For when you hurt me, and when you lied,
And when you faked grief when I cried,
When you spoke about me behind my back.
Laughing at my pain, and discuss what all I lack.
When for a stranger you left me all alone.
I realized I’ve lost you now.
Maybe I’d lost you long ago,
Or maybe I’d never lost you,
for how can I loose what I never found.
So as these mornings, afternoon and evening go by,
I do not grieve for you, nor I ever will,
And it is not for you that in sorrow I lie,
Nor it is for you that my heart is bitter and still,
And I’ll never shed a tear, for the kind of friend you were.
And never in my lifetime would I wish you were here.
But my only loss, only sorrow is what I’ve really lost,
My real loss was the loss of trust in myself.
And loss of my carefree trusting mind.
And loss for the heart that cared and believed
And losing a part of me, that I can never find
For all I’ve suffered, you were not worth this loss,
And I did not deserve this pain,
To try to find what is not there,
For my mornings, afternoons and evenings, can never be mine again

AND” THOU ART DEAD, AS YOUNG AND FAIR” – Lord Byron

stock-footage--beauty-smiling-girl-lying-on-the-meadow-with-wild-flowers-laughing-and-happy-enjoy-nature

And thou art dead, as young and fair

As aught of mortal birth;

And form so soft, and charms so rare,

Too soon return’d to Earth !

Though Earth received them in her bed

And o’er the spot the crowd may tread

In carelessness or mirth,

There is an eye which could not brook

A moment on that grave to look.
I will not ask where thou liest low,

Nor gaze upon the spot;

There flowers or weeds at will may grow,

So I behold them not:

It is enough for me to prove

That what I loved, and long must love,

Like common earth can rot;

To me there needs no stone to tell,

Tis Nothing that I loved so well.
Yet did I love thee to the last

As fervently as thou,

Who didst not change through all the past,

And canst not alter now

The love where Death has set his seal,

Nor age can chill, nor rival steal,

Nor falsehood disavow:

And, what were worse, thou canst not see

Or wrong, or change, or fault in me.
The better days of life were ours;

The worst can be but mine:

The sun that cheers, the storm that lowers,

Shall never more be thine.

The silence of that dreamless sleep

I envy now too much to weep;

Nor need I to repine,

That all those charms have pass’d away;

I might have watch’d through long decay.
The flower in ripen’d bloom unmatch’d

Must fall the earliest prey;

Though by no hand untimely snatch’d,

The leaves must drop away;

And yet it were a greater grief

To watch it withering, leaf by leaf

Than see it pluck’d to-day;

Since earthly eye but ill can bear

To trace the change to foul from fair.
I know not if I could have borne

To see thy beatuies fade;

The night that follow’d such a morn

Had worn a deeper shade:

Thy day without a cloud hath pass’d,

And thou wert lovely to the last;

Extinguish’d , not decay’d;

As stars that shoot along the sky

Shine brightest as they fall from high.
As once I wept, if I could weep,

My tears might well be shed,

To think I was not near to keep

One vigil o’er thy bed;

To gaze, how fondly !    On thy face,

To fold thee in a faint embrace,

Uphold thy drooping head;

And show that love, however vain,

Nor thou nor I can feel again.
Yet how much less it were to gain,

Though thou hast left me free,

The loveliest things that still remain,

Than thus remember thee !

The all of thine that cannot die

Through dark and dread Eternity

Returns again to me,

And more thy buried love endears

Than aught except its living years.