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Tag Archives: real

“One of them” – Nayana Nair

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Slowly I hear
a flood, a riot, a madness of people
rushing towards me.
Their voices turning from
gossiping whispers
to name calling.
Their anger pulling triggers
real and imaginary.
I hear a silence in the world
that looks at me
and tell me a list of things I did wrong
to deserve this.
They look for a reason to forget the existence
of people like me
whose broken pieces remind them
of their own cruelty.

And soon they run to another direction
finding someone to bully.
But many a times, one of them looks back,
helps me get back on my feet.
And now I do not know
how to hate them.
I fear my hate will make me one of them.

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“Great Escape” – Nayana

Drawing

Even on this side of the mirror,
in the world of shining surfaces
and sharp and dissolving images,
I have found myself
looking for clues of this fabricated world;
of trying to look for a secret trapdoor
and hidden rooms,
for a way out of here.
Not thinking even once what it meant
to be out of this world.
And even if I make it out
that world that my heart can hold
from afar,
can it witstand the touch
of a person made of light and glass?
No great escape.
No new world, no new word,
can make me more real
than the image I am.

“Let me sell you a story” – Nayana Nair

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Let me sell you a story.
A lie
that my hollow life could live in.
A home that can be changed to my need.
A reality that never exists,
but is as real as
the stories,
the lives
that we avoided by one choice.
Let me sell you a story,
let me sell you my dreams.
I have no need for them anyway.

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“Crossing the River” – Nayana Nair

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I was on my way to a place
that only exists in my mind.
And with each footprint I left behind
it became more real.
And though I know I hated each second
of wandering without a map.
But I know I loved it too.
But sitting by this river.
Listening to water
eroding the underlying stones
one particle at time.
I think of how wonderful it would be
if I could just stop
and live here.

blueflower
I spend days by the river.
I don’t know
how many more I will spend.
And slowly I feel that
there is more to life than wandering.
But I also know
that one day I will regret staying.
Not knowing where I could have been
if I had only crossed that river.
Shall I stay or keep moving?
I don’t know.
I don’t want to decide now.
Let me stay a few more days in the peace that I never found.
In the peace that I always wanted.

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