Friday, November 27, 2015

And they can't reach you

It's back again
That dreaded dark feeling
Which has wound itself around your heart
And in this dark cold winter night
It has found you
What else can you say?
That you crave words to sustain you
Clutching at stories which are not yours
Your hunger so vast, so deep
And the people who appear again in your life
And then fade away
What is yours? you ask yourself
No place to call your own
Just this page.
And some jumble of words
A language not yours by birth
But the only one you know enough to write in.
Because you have begun to wonder
How this goes
How you return to this dark place intermittently
Because there are people you love
But they seem far away tonight
You are stranded in another planet
And they can't reach you.

Sunday, November 22, 2015

The people who don't belong to the country they are born into

As a child I never thought of myself as pretty
Even now I am unsure of it that I was
Uncertain, surprised, even guilty
when someone at a party told me
I was beautiful.
And I expected him to burst out laughing
That ofcourse it was a joke
But he didn't.
Because how could I
with slits for eyes,
my petite frame
Be mistaken for beautiful?
You see, I grew up among people
who didn't look like me
And they only complimented each other
For their thick wavy hair
and their big brown eyes
Smug at the knowledge that
They would never be mistaken for aliens
 in your own country, or called names which
 made you cringe and ashamed for looking the way I did
And I think about us, the people who don't really belong
To the country they are born into,
Who grow up believing they are not beautiful.

Albeit a stranger who writes divine

You waltzed into my life
with your poetry and your joy
Making me wish I had known you
all my life
And I know this is not love
But it has been a while since I felt
This camaraderie with a stranger
Albeit a stranger who writes divine.