It holds you in its arms Cradles you, caresses you. Mistake it not for warmth, for Grief is an ocean Vast. Deep. Relentless.
Somebody, everybody and nobody All have grief in common, for grief spares none. I wear it differently It looks unrecognisable on you.
Grievance is for the dead, was a lesson taught in school oh but there is more to it grief is for change, loss and being is a lesson taught by life.
Tides and currents run wild in its unfathomable waves it comes to everyone in its own time and knocks you off your feet.
There is no running, no escaping. When it hurts to even breathe remember that it changes on a dime one day, impossibly, it won’t hurt this bad that’s how you survive.
I think I’m past it alas it strikes again, starts again. you can not control it, let it in when it comes, feel it let go of it, when you can
All things that begin must come to an inevitable end. A cry of distress, in an unfamiliar world and hence begins life.
Some live for a 100 years without being alive for even a second of it. We are our own undoing. Blessing or tragedy?
Stop and smell the roses, they say. Maybe I should become that rose and carry that beauty within me.
I wish to forge my own path. Untethered, free and wild. Liberated from this worldly cage, and when Death finally finds me may it find me alive.
The other day, I came across an African proverb : “When death comes to find you, may it find you alive.”
We spend a lot of our lives being held back by trying to become what we think others expect us to be. We let ourselves be trapped in a cage.
Our soul knows what it wants. At this very moment, it’s speaking to you. Listen. Then go do it, grab it, live it.
Something went wrong with my WP a few days ago, and this got posted before I was done editing it. I removed it as soon as it happened, but a few of you had already read it and left comments. I’m sorry I had to delete that post because it just wasn’t ready. This is the final and improved version!
Ever so often we find ourselves looking for people, places, memories and opportunities that make our hearts ache. But in a good way.
Some find happiness in running after that feeling, chasing it in bars and discos. Jumping off cliffs only to have a trace of its grandeur. Intoxicated by its scent in foreign skies and seas.
Some find solace in the hope that it will come to them. That all they must do, is believe in its power, its possibility, and trust it with all their heart, and the wait will be worth it.
That feeling is what makes the World go round.
Earth, our home, found it in its path around the Sun. Sun, our star, found it in its luminosity and illumination. Water, our sustenance, found it wrapped in the bonds between hydrogen and oxygen. Wind, our cosmos, found it in the chirp of every bird that beautifies it. Fire, our energy, found it in the oxygen that strengthens it.
Sometimes, it comes in our early years. Others spend ages feeling incomplete. Sometimes, it comes right when you need it. Others learn that it has the worst timing ever. Sometimes, it comes when you’re ready to hold on. Others are caught completely off guard.
I made a wish for that feeling, then placed it in my soul.
I promise to welcome its immensity and its enormity the next time we bump paths.
Hearts, hammering and hurting Soundless prayers, begging Unfamiliar nausea, flooding over Strength, emerging from the tears
In the distance : A shrill, piercing screech striving to tear through the peripheral traffic.
Another day, Another tragedy, Another life in the balance. Another life hanging by the cliff.
Wanting to hoist itself above when there’s only enough to let go A combat for another breath Life, the only war spoil
In the distance : A fleeting image of an ambulance, A whizz of sirens defying all odds A cascade of orisons and hopes.
Another day, Another tragedy, Another life in the balance. Another life hanging by the cliff.
Steady then Shaky. Erratic at best.
A few days ago, I stood by my balcony, talking on the phone. And during that 20 minute phone call I heard 4 ambulances rushing by. That is where I found my inspiration to write this. We are currently surviving in trying times. Things will get better. I am proud of all of us for facing them! More power to us.
P.S I am so sorry for not being able to be up to date with all my reading. I have been busy with exams for the past week.
But I am back now! Looking forward to hearing from all of you and reading more of your amazing pieces!
1. She looked down. A deep gash ran obliquely over her torso. Blood sputtering. White light beckoned. Was this the end?
2. It was a suicide, they said. She pulled the trigger, but their oblique remarks towards her body held the gun.
This is my attempt at the Twenty Word Tuesday event hosted by Bulbul’s bubble. (https://wp.me/pbcaAs-wZ)
This week’s prompt was: Oblique.
While both these 20 word stories are about death. They are in two completely different contexts.
In reference, to the second story, I would like to take this opportunity to convey how important it is for all of us to be mindful of our words and actions. They have great power. They can create and destroy.
To anyone who is going through a tough time, stay strong. It does get better.
1. Life existed, but was I living it? My world came to a standstill, but time kept ticking. Such was quarantine.
2. Neigbours waved from the abode of their patios. Quarantine had coerced the otherwise estranged humanity to connect and join forces.
3. Calloused fingers ached from typing night and day, night and day. Life Goal: Write a book. Quarantine made it possible.
4. “I love you,” she whispered to the camera, he smiled at the screen. Quarantined miles apart, their hearts beat together.
This is in response to the Twenty Word Tuesday organised by Bulbul’s Bubble (https://wp.me/pbcaAs-wd). I somehow ended up writing 4 different pieces.
This week the prompt was – Quarantine
I wanted to try and highlight some positivity that arose from the confinement and isolation, as well as the adversity and heartbreak. I hope I was able to do justice!
A bonfire, a friendship and a paradox. Three unrelated entities that came together. This is a story of how.
Completely different yet somehow bizarrely functional, such was our connection.
This is how I met The Boy Who Loves Bonfires.
Click.Tap.Click.Tap.Click.Tap. I had come up with a rhythm to which I bobbed my head, sitting impatiently. It was yet another day in a class I wasn’t very fond of. Don’t get me wrong, I was great at the subject.The class, however,was a borefest.
There is always that one class where no one pays attention. Everyone is either dozing off or daydreaming. The latter is more my thing.
The seat next to me was unoccupied…until, it just wasn’t. My daydream came crashing down when I heard the sound of metal screeching as the seat next to me was pulled backward.
Within seconds, a complete stranger who I had occasionally seen in the hallways, sat next to me.
That is probably the most boring and cliched starting to what became one the most beautiful friendships of my life.
While I admit that the beginning was awkward and rocky, a few months later we were inseparable.
“The Boy Who Loves Bonfires,” such was his epithet.
Bonfires? I mean what’s so out of the blue about bonfires?
Fire. An element of life, a symbol of damnation, a source of energy, the hallmark for death. A purifier and a destroyer.
A paradox.
In the last sacrament of life in many cultures, corpses are burnt. Day after day, countless people die, yet the living wish to live forever.
The bodies of the dead are burned as they depart on a journey to whatever lies in the afterlife. Smoke stacks choke the skies.
The holy element of fire is hence linked to the end of a loved one’s journey amongst the living.
Fire, then becomes eerie and sinister to many people.
While my friend envisaged a starry night, sitting across a bonfire, with blankets and marshmallows.
The heat from the fire soothing the frigid air and the shivering toes. Consuming, devouring, annihilating the wood in order to stay alive.
Orange flames cackling while they dance, throwing vivid shadows and shapes under the dark of the night.
Its reflections in the eyes of the people gathered around, whispering secrets as its warmth caresses each soul.
Burning with the valiant desire to breathe. It reminded him of the beauty of being alive, each day.
“We can complain that rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice that thorns have roses,” while I had heard this many times, The Boy Who Loves Bonfires brought it to life and made me live it.
The Boy Who Loves Bonfires taught me a way of life.
I like to think of fire as the calm before a storm. Sometimes, the storm strikes and there is death, devastation, and loss to deal with. Sometimes, the storm passes over. It doesn’t strike. On those days, there is relief, warmth, calm and joy that the fire itself spreads.
I wonder sometimes, does fire know of its power? To create and destroy. Or does it remain an oblivious paradoxical element.
A paradox contradicts itself. It has various faces to it. The one we choose to focus on arbitrates much of our lives.
This I learned from him.
Who would have thought that a friendship that began in the dullest possible way would spark a fire. Dazzling and alive.
Whimsical Wordsmith 