Tag Archives: writing

Why I couldn’t write about You.


the poet

Once you asked the Poet
Why she wrote a million poems,
yet never one about you?
If you were ever anything to her-
a smoke, a fog, or even a drop of dew?

And you made her think,
your worth, your essence, your being.

You were like Breath,
Always in me,
Although I couldn’t ever see.

I was alive,
I was breathing,
yet never feeling,
The breath in me.

I wrote couplets,
I wrote odes,
At each of life’s crossroads.

You were in me,
You were behind me,
There you were,
where I couldn’t see.

Holding me uptight, whenever I fell,
But you were there with me,
You never could tell…

I saw you at the bends,
when the roads turned
Like a shadow of my past,
That often returned.

You followed wherever I walked,
You listened all through,
I remember,you never talked.

At each road I remember,
I wrote a Poem or two.
Until one day I found,
I have never written about you.

That was the day,
When my last breath was left.
That was the night,
when of words I was bereft.

Perhaps I never wrote,
because you never put me at any crossroad.

You followed me, my Breath.
At each road, until death.
Unseen, unacknowledged.
Taken for granted, in blind faith.

Now,
Your absence was your presence,
A Poem-
Unwritten, unacknowledged,
But speaking  My life’s essence…

The breath was gone.
And I was gone too.
I was gone now,
without writing about you…

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Nights of nothingness…


I cannot hear.
There are tears.
On the pillow.
Inside my ear-phones.

The same songs play again and again.
They are Korean and I don’t understand them.
So I choose to hear them now.

Inside my head like a typhoon, Thoughts rush.
Fears grip me, tears gush.

I thought I was Hollow. Empty.
But the tears had filled me all this while.

I stuff my pillow into my mouth and Scream.
My body aches.
The soul weeps.

tears_on_my_pillow

The ceiling fan goes on.
And I stop.

I wish I hadn’t spoken up all that I said.
You thought I talk too much.
I wish I had spoken up just once for myself and told you how it hurts.
You thought I was being cruelly silent.

Today,
I want to sleep.
Tomorrow,
I want to wake up from a sleep.

I want to sweat my eye brows.
I don’t want to wet my eyes.

I want to work hard like a maniac.
I want to pray on bended knees.
I want to possess peace.
I want to smile on the way.
I want to cry on the victory stump.
I want to Believe.

But when faith shatters.
It hurts. It pains.
Everything real seems sinfully surreal.

I want to be different from who I have been.
I want to be indifferent to all that I have known-
Past, People, Pain.

I jump from the feigned sleep.
Tears on my pillow, in my hair,
in my ears, in my fears.
In my throat,
I choke.

I switch on the lights.
I gaze at the mirror.

Black rings encircling my eyes.
Somber, Silent , Scared eyes.

I shoo away my ghost,
I row my hair slowly like a river.
The waves seem soft.
while the world has hardened.

I put on the glasses over the tears.
but they haven’t helped me see through truth.

Forgive! My heart says!
Forgive yourself. Forgive them.

I grab the Lord’s picture on my table.
I cry.
I pray.
I bathe him with my tears.

I pick up my pen,
The words don’t flow.
There is silence in the ink

I write-
One more day of doing nothing.
One more day of being nothing.”

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