RSS Feed

Tag Archives: sympathy

“We are stronger than we think” – Nayana Nair

“We are stronger than we think.”
I always avoid saying such nonsense.
I have always hated words
that have no meaning ,
no real sympathy,
words that almost sound like:
“shut up! stop crying! we have had enough.
don’t make the atmosphere so depressing.
we can’t help it.
you can’t either.
why bring up such topics.”
I never wanted to sound like that to anyone.
I don’t want to be one of those who
consider consoling someone
equal to convincing them
that what they considered precious,
what they considered life shattering
was nothing,
that what the grieving cares for is nothing.

But then, what are the right words?

“We are stronger than we think.”
To spew such nonsense.
Even when I said that to her,
I wondered why I said that.
Have I been surprised
by my strength ever in my life?
Probably not.

But I remember feeling
that my happiest days have walked past me,
when I realized the futility of life, of my life,
my insignificance.
And how I somehow made it to the days
where I found something to look forward to,
where I found myself between people whom I could love.
The fact
that I could wait for such days
in spite of the misery that was once unbearable
must mean something.
To wait for something that may never arrive
must require some kind of strength.
To loose every paradise we stumble on,
to bleed every time it is lost
and to still believe in the concept of paradise
must require something more
than the strength we think we have.

“Keep You Here” – Nayana Nair

photo-1508613789016-745d07168661

Even a harmless silence on your part
brings me down to tears.
I act in pathetic way
trying to get you back,
trying to buy your love
sometime using sympathy, sometimes throwing tantrums,
sometimes by changing myself, by changing you,
at times pretending that I am done with you
hoping that you try to stop me,
and in my weakness even thinking of hurting myself
if that is what it takes to keep you with me.
But won’t there be a limit
to the trials and errors that a heart can withstand.
What after that?
How shall I hold you here when that happens?

***

I tell myself everyday
I must work hard to keep you in love with me
till you can see in my tiring eyes how much you mean to me.
But often you look at me
as if you can see what I know I have become-
a human who grows new appendages of greed everyday
becoming a monster knowingly
calling it love.
I play this game by myself
wondering meantime,
why my love has turned out like this.
Why can’t we be simply in love forever
like were were made to believe that we could be?
Tell me how to end this,
this end that I want more that anything (even you)
that end is the only thing that is not in my hands.
I don’t know how to stop all that we have started,
how to fix all that I have disfigured with my desperation.

“Resemblance” – Nayana Nair

tumblr_p034mcf9ge1w8iampo1_1280

Have you heard about the lady that sits two seats away.
They have an awful lot to say about her.
I have never heard her speak,
but what I hear about her
is so much more interesting
than what she could possibly tell me.
No, I do not participate is spreading lies
or statements that that are as likely to be true
as they can be false.

red-poppy-olga-shvartsur

Some days I end up feeling more than I should.
I think of all the days I was her.
Now I am not, nor will I ever be again.
But once I was
and that makes me feel sad and then angry at her
for showing me something that I do not want to see.
If her story and her life
could have existed somewhere out of my sight,
I could have afforded some sympathy.
If I didn’t expect her to do all that I should have
and all that I couldn’t,
maybe I could have taken into consideration
that weakness that all of want get rid of.

red-poppy-olga-shvartsur

Rest of the days
I keep my eyes open and try to see her
apart from what I know of her,
apart from what I see of me in her.
And what little resemblance to my sorrow she had
vanishes as quickly as it appeared,
telling me to look for another mirror,
preferably not a person,
to see and regret all that I can’t blame myself for.

“Close these windows” – Nayana Nair

Posted on

tumblr_oj2gdfSwKV1v7z7sqo1_500

I continue to live in the light of my own making
knowing it is the only light I’ll ever find.
For a moment I wonder, how I look to you.
Loosing my sorrow.
Loosing my frown.
Loosing my mind.
One by one
I close these windows
through which your eyes prod me,
to see what’s left behind.
This growing envy, this show for sympathy
these broken words with drops of blood
is all that you would find.

“Bubble” – Nayana Nair

Posted on

bubbles-wallpaper-45

There is so much
that the world doesn’t care for.
If we were to care for every thing that
has caused pain to every person,
we may never have been able to live happily
ever in our life.
And there would be a black fog
of borrowed sadness, that will be
the only thing we breathe.
We may cry a few tears of sympathy,
but after those few minutes
we live our life, as we have done till now.
It’s the only thing we can do.
Though it may seem selfish,
but I guess it is both tragic and good
that the cries and scream of this world
never break through
the bubble of our own happiness.
And our own sadness and joy
is bound by our own bubble.

The Milos-Ivanski Studio

Featuring the work of Lori Milos-Ivanski

Don't Eat It! Soap and Skin Care

Handcrafted Soap, Bee Keeping, Farming and More

WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

Strolling around SE Michigan & sending joy in the journey.

Priscilla Bettis, Author

The making of a horror novelist.

Silent Hour

Poetry and prose by Basilike Pappa

ForgivingConnects

A Safe Place to Share Your Stories

simon.jacob

The Journey Begins

Park Bench Tales and other writings

Thoughts and writings reflecting the poet within and the activist

Pix to Words

Photographically Inspired Writing

Il Canto delle Muse

La cosa importante è di non smettere mai di interrogarsi. La curiosità esiste per ragioni proprie. Non si può fare a meno di provare riverenza quando si osservano i misteri dell'eternità, della vita, la meravigliosa struttura della realtà. Basta cercare ogni giorno di capire un po' il mistero. Non perdere mai una sacra curiosità. ( Albert Einstein )

Cichy zakątek poezji

Miłość nie istnieje w sobie, ale w nas, jest naszym osobistym dziełem. " - Marcel Proust

La poesía, eso decían

Como plasmar la idea natural.

/ɛm/ɛn/piː/

- MyNewPerspective ... seeing the world through different eyes -

Poesíainstante

Personal e íntimo

Something to Ponder About

Lifestyle, Travel, Traditional Art and Community

Tittle Thoughts

Discussions on life influences and travels

Colțul Cultural

repaus cu cap