Beginnings

IMG_20181022_170813_BokehI laugh at you when you ask,
“Isn’t it a bit weird for a year to end on a Monday?
Like an ending performing a waltz with a beginning?”
I tell you, maybe it’s always been that way.
Because beginnings are a bit unexpected,
Beginnings are kind of subtle.
Beginnings sound a lot like
Your mother’s voice on the phone,
When you are nine hundred miles
Away from home.
Beginnings sound a lot like your first laughter
After you’ve been crying for seventy two hours.
Beginnings are like the Mondays on which
A year of three hundred and sixty five days ends,
Beginnings are the days you wake up to
Despite having wished you wouldn’t have to.
Beginnings are like picking that half read book
After four years
And starting it all over again.
Beginnings are like the new favourite song
For which you stop humming the previous one.
Beginnings are like walking away,
Like breaking away,
Like no longer waiting for an old lover
To walk in through that door.
Beginnings, I tell you, are at times
As tragic as endings;
And sometimes, even more.

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Unsaid

She could’ve added melody to your discordant notes

And could’ve been the song that takes you home.

She could’ve been your certainty

When all else went astray,

Been the creased photograph

to fill your empty frame.

But so much has remained unsaid for so long-

Time sent a gust of wind,

Yet the flame of fondness was never doused.

Only your words have learned

to hold on effortlessly

To the corners of your mouth.

Anwesha

17/9/2018

Repose

IMG_20180622_211016_271I saw you in a quiet corner,
Away from the music, away from the laughter.
I walked up to you and asked
If it was Nietzsche on your mind,
For that’s the you I had known all along-
All nihilistic and dry.
But to my surprise, “A bit of Neruda,” was your reply.
I asked, “So, tonight you can write the saddest lines?
And I knew you could, when you looked away and smiled.
And there, away from the music, away from the laughter,
I found my repose, a calming shelter.
Let me have the burden of pretentious happiness off my shoulders,
I won’t let my reality lean on lies any longer.
Tonight I need no wisdom.
I need no reason for my being.
Let me just look into your eyes
And find a moment’s peace,
For, love, this world is a bit too loud for me.

Because Beauty

(I do not intend to belittle any person, title or event. Just personal feelings. Criticism is welcome.)

I looked at their plastic smiles and choreographed waves
And wondered why they aroused no joy or admiration or enchantment in me,
While the world was celebrating “beauty”
Why was I so incapable of lauding the wonder she promises to be?
But I didn’t have to wonder too long, because it dawned upon me soon.
Because beauty doesn’t depend on scores,
Because a “judgement” doesn’t penetrate the soul.
Because beauty never did and never will have standards,
It need not be recognized with awards.
Because beauty to me will always be
The smile worn while your heart cracked inside your being,
The “I’ll be back soon” whispered at the airport;
The “waiting for you to get back”, even though dinner’s cold.
Because beauty will always be your stretch marks,
Your passions and desires, the pain hidden beneath your scars.
Beauty is your flushed cheek after the first kiss,
Beauty is holding your hand through the crowded streets.
Because beauty is your kindness that warms the heart,
Beauty is all that remains when everything else falls apart.

 

Anwesha Saha

23/11/2017