“This ground that we stand upon” – Nayana Nair

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Dear &^%$,

Have you found a way
to leave everything
that you call your ground-
your ground of anger,
of rusting armour of indifference,
of the trauma the heartless giants planted in your heart,
the compass that shows all the wrong directions
and always takes you to the nearest cliff, again and again.
Have you found a way to be better, to live better?
I haven’t yet.

Yesterday I listened to a stranger talk for hours
about how it can be done,
how it will end when we want it to.
It made me wonder if maybe we are not yet ready
for this groundless life.
Maybe that is our only issue.

All that can save us is so temporary, so transient.
Yet the thing that ruins us, is ours to keep-
not like the sun, but like the demon that needs our skin to live.
I wonder if we just need to be needed that badly.
Is that why we choose to cry than to change?
Is that why we choose to hold onto the wave that is drowning us-
just because it is here, because it is ours till it kills us.
Among many other things I also wonder what made us like this.
To be honest I am afraid to know.

What are you afraid of today?
Do let me know.

Yours,
$%^&

“THE JOURNEY”- Nayana Nair

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She walked down the road

In the middle of “everywhere”.

With the wind ruffling through her skirt

And wild flowers stomped beneath her feet.

Her hair twisted around her little finger

Along with his heart.

Of the one who had walked by her side

For an eternity.

His one hand carrying the luggage

And other clutching his heart.

His world was what she saw

And his “everywhere” where she walked.

Silences were made

To be filled by her words.

and her pauses were

meant to be filled by his voice.

The companion in their travel

Was the transient fluttering image

Of his arms entwined in hers

And her laughter weaving

A dream in his eyes.

What this image was to them?

A mirage?

A promise?

That gave them courage to take one more step.

That made every loss bearable.

Or a reality of their hearts?

An old silly idea of romance

That found no place in this world

Maybe found a place in theirs.

“LIFE” – Charalotte Bronte

(Image taken from  grittypoet.blogspot.com)

LIFE, believe, is not a dream
So dark as sages say;
Oft a little morning rain
Foretells a pleasant day.
Sometimes there are clouds of gloom,
But these are transient all;
If the shower will make the roses bloom,
O why lament its fall ?

Rapidly, merrily,
Life’s sunny hours flit by,
Gratefully, cheerily,
Enjoy them as they fly !

What though Death at times steps in
And calls our Best away ?
What though sorrow seems to win,
O’er hope, a heavy sway ?
Yet hope again elastic springs,
Unconquered, though she fell;
Still buoyant are her golden wings,
Still strong to bear us well.
Manfully, fearlessly,
The day of trial bear,
For gloriously, victoriously,
Can courage quell despair !