cloak

IMG_20180202_150858

they don’t see the laugh
the talk, the walk
forget the jokes, the art-rock
the crinkle, the quirks
the passion, the works…
your situation is who you become
no matter how far you run
as who should say
it’s bigger than the parts
that make up the one

_

This post is loosely inspired by an Oh Wonder song called Overgrown, which is about being there for a loved one whose depression seems to have taken over their personality .

 

Advertisements

bloom

photo-1439894671367-1904e126d8f1oh, bloom, little one

let the sun drink your hues

let the air carry your song

don’t be afraid to let loose

let your arrival be bold

you will be your own muse

 

Photo courtesy of Jimmy Chang via magdeleine.com

Up before nine

annie-spratt-509212

all of my plans, piling on

all of my friends, moving on

all of my dreams, getting buried

this failure of a life

it’s not what I’d foreseen

but today,

I’m up before nine

smoke in my hair

dust on my skin

and sun in my eyes

young and careless no more

sans escapes, sans lies

 

Photo by Annie Spratt courtesy of magdeleine.com

WIP

anubhav-saxena-41356.jpg

 

 

 

 

 

when I’m working,
I don’t doze off to escape.

when I’m working,
I forget that I’ve gained weight.

when I’m working,
I don’t touch the scars on my face.

when I’m working,
I don’t think about the closed gates.

when I’m working,
I don’t worry about my thinning hairline.

when I’m working,
I don’t feel the heaviness on my eyes.

when I’m working,
I find no  joy  in whining.

when I’m working,
I don’t have to find a silver lining …

 

 

photo by Anubhav Saxena, courtesy of Unsplash

Stepping Up

IMG_20170609_121147_788.jpg

It was one of those turbulent days when you forget that rubbing your eyes this hard could possibly leave you with no lashes, when the comfort of your bed makes an unreasonable case escaping responsibility, when the present is hazed by a head full of voices of past mistakes and a heart curdling with the uncertainty of the future. In that moment, you look up and find the stillness and streaks of light you yearned for within you. You pick up the monster machine lying under your pillow and let some of this light in through its lens. This moment is crucial, for after that, you close your eyes for a minute, step up, and step out of bed.

To small victories, each day.

Roots

IMG_20170521_193749_969.jpg

Try to wash the dirt off my leaves,
The sun would make the drops fly,
Brown would coagulate,
And then you’d sigh.
Green would sprout
With an outward brightness,
An inward progress, shining loud,
Only if you water my roots
That burrow far from the hyped cloud…

 

Madness

IMG_20170416_105634_730

What is this strange thing that occludes her insides
Like dried paint in small, old glass bottles,
Solid and unmoving,
Its cracks making a case for the time it’s been left undisturbed
And unwanted.
This feeling within her of worms gnawing
At a surface she can’t smear with make up
Or hide under a fort of pillows.
This action spurting out of her
Seeming like a storm flying makeshift roofs off a slum.
All these shadows dancing around her,
Trying to convince her that they don’t need light to exist.
What is this madness
Keeping her from all she’s capable of,
From all she could fight and become.
All they are too ignorant to see.
And she,
She’s too tired to try.
All she does is fall,
Doze off, forget,
Looking for an ouster at the very outset.

Compromise

IMG_20170314_233113_926

Bugs,
I’ve let them colonise,
Harbour inside,
Create their own paradise.
Words,
I hear hollow advice,
They’re cold water,
To my wounds,
I taste the lies.
Mirrors
Bring to light
My spots and lines,
Cut, seep, squeeze out
Demons mine.
Darkness
Guzzles my mind
In one swig,
Clear and precise.
There’s no out,
Just in,
So I smile,
Learn to live
With these sighs.

The Tale of the Mistletoe

mistletoe-berries-16393_1280 (1)

“Oh, don’t ever harm Baldur!”

Beseeched Frigg to each & every one.

But overlooking the mistletoe

Brought death to her precious son.

She wept and howled, distraught,

Her tears forming white berries,

This loss even the Gods could feel.

So they brought Baldur back,

Put her out of her misery.

 

It’s an offering dropped from heaven,

Said the Greek and Roman.

For lovers to embrace,

And enemies to find peace.

Resilient like a warrior,

It feeds and heals,

Even when trees shed all their leaves.

 

Elks, chipmunks, robins,

Porcupines and bluebirds,

It brings all together,

And not once cleaves.

In life as in the legend,

Mending, thawing, binding,

Rounding every crease.

 

photo courtesy of pixabay.com