By Akshita
You are not the flicker of a candle,
Thirsting for wax and wick.
Nor are you the pale light of the moon,
Waiting each day for the sun.
You are a star held by your own gravity;
You require nothing else to burn.
Note: This marks the hundredth post on this blog.
I like yellow flowers.
I realize how much has changed;
How the stars appear brighter.
I am wary of the light sometimes.
I remember its deceptiveness.
I catch myself smiling
with a lightness and innocence,
Untouched.
Daydreaming.
As though I did not emerge
gasping for breath
only to submerge again.
And again. And again.
I chide the part of me that smiles,
child-like. I remind her
of happiness that is hard earned;
I tell her to not spend it all at once.
To save some
For nights that are darker
For mornings that are colder
For roads when she finds — I find myself alone.
I tell her to wrap up her smiles
In cotton wool,
To ration out her joy in bits and pieces
A little here and there, wisely.
She laughs loudly — audaciously.
And it sounds like cowbells
On a warm afternoon in the meadow.
She blows bubbles in the bath
And makes smileys on the fogged mirror.
I stand besides her
Trying to protect her from herself.
Someone has to maintain the archives of memories.
But her happiness is absolute
She wants no part of the carefulness.
I hesitate a little, and indulge
Into a smile like sunshine sometimes.
I still like yellow flowers.
When they skinned me alive,
I was afraid, very afraid.
For I knew my crimes were not merely skin-deep.
And when they pelted me with stones,
A chill crept into my heart.
For I knew I could not atone my sins with broken bones.
But when they reached deep inside
And pulled out that one tiny shard to crush,
A sliver of hope, that sustained my life,
I gave a weak laugh, giddy with relief.
For there could be no more;
The Lords of Karma had crossed that line.
There would be no more punishment
Without violating the very laws that they held so sacred.
I reached out and took it back;
That tiny shard of an already broken whole.
“No more punishment”, I repeated to myself,
A statement and a promise at the same time,
For I had reached, at last, the end of my penance.
The spark of smiles
And innocent longings
Turned to a flame;
Deep red and pure,
Of passion and warmth, hopes and dreams.
As she watched the flame turn to harsh fire
That threatened to cremate the very love
Which it was built from,
Panic washed over her,
And she stood paralyzed,
Forced to watch the destruction all night.
The fire had burned without restrictions
And brought to light all good and bad.
She now surveyed the landscape of the hearts
Where residue flames still burned around;
Bright stars in ebony dark.
The venom had flowed out due to heat;
In rivulets of poisonous green. And the love?
The memory of the pure, red flame
Danced in front of her eyes
And she saw the light igniting far off,
As crimson sun broke the night.
Gaining strength from warming rays
She promised aloud to burn just as bright
And sent her word to the fiery being
With messengers of both lands still stirring;
Phoenixes, after all, are reborn from the ashes.
Even as the tears threaten to trickle down the eyes,
The stubborn smile refuses to leave the face,
The stubborn hope refuses to leave the heart.
There I was,
In the very depths;
I had hit, as they say,
Rock bottom.
It took so much time
To barely regain focus,
To prop myself up
On elbows, if not feet.
Miles below the surface,
I was surrounded by darkness.
The shadows hid horrors
Of past and future.
It took so much time
To slow down my breathing
And take a look around
Assessing my life.
I chose a jagged rock,
And took one step up.
The darkness was the same
Was a step really enough?
I curled up into myself
Losing all motivation.
It took so much time
To ignite a little fire.
With the flame of hope,
I took one step up.
Step after step I put.
Perhaps it was possible to reach out.
The flame burnt brighter
And then there was nothing.
For rocks had fallen suddenly
And I was back on the floor.
A rock had settled on my chest
The flame had flickered down to nothing.
It took so much time
To accept the fall again.
With the rock implanted in my heart
But the fire reignited,
I merged pain with hope
And took one step up, towards the sun.
With crushed hopes,
A wounded heart,
Depleted spirits,
I begin again.
With salty eyes,
A heavy mind,
Cynical thoughts,
I begin again.
There is but one desire;
To be better than today.
With a broken pen,
I begin again.
The Writer's Nest 