LIFE

*************

Everyone is living.

No one goes nowhere.

The dead woman in the mortuary,

Along with her neighbour

the  beautiful baby girl, 

 now live a different life.

Her husband

on the ventilator in an ICU

too has changed into another type of life.

The parents and friends

 running around the corridors and rooms of the hospital

live one type of life.

They just feel they are together in it.

In sorrows of loss and fear of losing again.

But No one goes nowhere.

Its difficult to communicate

between the islands of different types of lives.

That is the reason for the silences.

Its not real but a perceived one.

Never call a silence death.

People do not talk sometimes

When they transform  in to a different life.

yet we should always be aware.

No one goes nowhere.

The Best Friend

**************

Today ,for the first time

I met her on a mirror too.

 She  looked at me with her wrinkling ,still bright eyes.

she asked me smiling.

“do you love me?”

I said “ofcourse I do”

I touched my forehead on hers

 to show her what I said is true.

She felt cool on my face

Even when my thoughts were tangled

Like iron chains on my neck ,so heavy.

She asked me again

“do you respect me for what I were,

what I became

And what I would end up someday like ?”

I said ‘yes.I do”

Then she asked me

 ‘why?’

I told her that is our chosen path.

She smiled and asked again

“what would you regret?”

I thought for a second and replied.

“one day I have to leave you behind

 when I have to go

Then you might  not be visible to anyone

and the mirror will cry.”

CONVERSATION .

Then I  told the humid warm night.

Our nostalgia sleeps within the rocky walls of

thousands of pains, in oblivion,

and never try to awaken it

unless you want to drink our poisons together.

Let it sleep or stay comatose

Inside the corner of a bottomless darkness,

unless you want to reopen the wounds

once we shared together.

The things which gleam and shine at this blackness

should not make us smile,

hiding the burns and scars underneathe our souls,

Unless you want to re-live the lies we lived together.

The ones who celebrated only  good days

can never be our friends,

Unless you wish to forget the sacrifices we made together.

The soil we share belongs only to those

Who tastes  like pains and struggles

And smells like sufferrings.

The roof we built holds on to those pillars

Which are made of the strength of tears and blood

that we shed for others and to survive.

Never make them collapse and drop dead over us

By your  aimless search of superficiality,

Unless you want us to get buried again today

more deeper than any yesterdays.

ROPEWALKER
**************

I used to walk on beautiful pavements.

Under the  sun  or embracing the drizzles.

Side by side of a breeze ,

free and  eazy

without  a care in the world.

Then one day they handed  me over a rope

 to walk .

I am ordered to leave my  scenic lands ,

the Strolls undrer the autumn leaves and rainy bliss.

I am given a no other option rule.

I did what they want.

Learned to walk on a rope.

I fell again and again

Only to get up and learn to balance.

Above their shoulders and piercing judgement.

I learn to walk on a rope.

Still I do

Walk on my rope and see what goes around and comes around

at  many levels

above their brains.

 COMMON DIFFERENCES
*************************
You,
A closed window Sleeping on the wall of a silent house .
Me,
An open door with lost key,
always inviting

the wind and dust in to an abandoned house.

Yet we have something in common.

The house where we

fall asleep and wakeup everyday.