Posted in Poetry

Their Daughter 

What if they

Cried when

I was born?


What if they


Weren’t only


Tears of joy?




What if they


Were tears


For their


Daughter


Who should


Have been


There to


Smile at


Her new


Sister.




For their


Daughter


Who should


Have been


There to


Hold her


Hand and


Giggle about


How small


It is.




For their


Daughter


Who should


Have been


There.




For their


Daughter.


May 8, 1998 to July 29, 2001.

Miss you, di.

Posted in Poetry

Tired Girls 

They’d play silly games,

Their eyes shining,

Knees scratched from

A day in the sand box.

Smiles for everyone

And lo, some more.

Tired girls, happy

For they loved.
Tag and hide and seek,

Duck duck goose.

Shouts of glee and

Screams — “You’re it!”

Picnics with ice cream,

Pizza and barbecue.

Tired girls, happy

For they loved.

 

Backyard games and

Hysterical laughter;

Whispered promises:

“I won’t tell anyone.”

And then telling

Everyone by mistake.

Tired girls, happy

For they loved.

 

Broken legs, sighs,

Sweat and tears;

Talking about

Everything and nothing.

Easter egg hunts,

Drive in movies.

Tired girls, happy

For they loved.

 

Visits to the library,

Smelling the books.

Playing with magnets

And marbles and stones:

“Here, catch this! Oh no!

I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

Tired girls, happy

For they loved.

Posted in Poetry, Rant

afraid

Afraid

I don’t have a

Road to follow.

 

Afraid

I’m never

Good enough.

 

Afraid

I’m not

Passionate enough.

 

Afraid

I might be

Losing my mind.

 

Afraid

To lose

My way.

 

Afraid

To be ridiculed

For how I look.

 

Afraid

I’ll drown in

My thoughts.

 

Afraid

I won’t be

Okay alone.

 

Afraid

I can’t take

Care of myself.

 

Afraid

No one will

Love me.

 

Afraid

I don’t have

Enough talent.

 

 

Afraid

I’ll never love

Who I am.

 

Inspired by one of my favourite bloggers, Ivy.

Posted in Poetry

Shrishti

She’s heard stories about her:

About how she was a bright girl

with a huge heart

And how she adored that actor.

 

She‘d be in college now,

And she can just imagine

How it’d be if she was there

And it’s painful.

 

She remembers

Looking out of the car,

As it rained and thinking,

God’s crying ’cause he misses didi.

 

(Of course, it’s not that she still believes in God; she believes in something that has proof of existence and has actually proven to do something.)

 

She’s never met her,

She’s never met her didi,

She’s never had someone

to look up to and trust.

 

It’s not fair, it’s

the furthest thing from fair.

She was three, three;

She hadn’t even lived yet.

 

She should’ve been there

With her, laughing at her cousin

And loving her poems

And just there.

 

Her name meant

The universe and

It was appropriately so for

she mean(t)(s) the universe to them.

 

I wonder if he-

the truck driver- feels bad

and cries knowing

he contributed to her death.

 

(Of course, no blame to him, he didn’t ask for this to happen; he just set out to do his job.)

 

There’s so many things

She would’ve done,

If she just got a

Chance to meet her.

 

She’d tell her how

everyone is, update her;

She‘d tell her that

they love and miss her.

 

It’s painful to know that

There’s always going

To be an absence where

She should’ve been.

 

It’s painful and hard

To miss something

You dont know

But you should’ve.

 

It’s painful to know

That you had something

But you lost it before

you could experience it.