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.

Advertisements

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.

Forbidden Expectations

final

And yet again, we expect what we shouldn’t,

Love whom we mustn’t,

Pray for the impossible,

And again, the broken laws are so palpable.

 

Hoping in the most hopeless moments,

Reminiscing the beginning even in the end,

Cherishing those incomplete memories,

We live on by ignoring so many vagaries.

 

All of it as futile as futile can be,

Yet there continues those euphoric dreams,

For they complete our beings,

They surpass our limitations,

And so, there lives forever the forbidden expectations.

The above sketch is by Anwesha Saha (owner of As The Ink Flows).