perfecting the emptiness

Breathe, a simple word. But a difficult verb... 
The name used to be on that page, a smudge next to the others. If you squint your eyes you can almost see it, below the surface. Almost.

My dreams are so very far away, yet i can taste, feel, even smell them. I have a hunger, a desire to reach for them, but my hand falls aimlessly through the stardust they leave behind. Old dreams are fading away, but i will stitch them to my heart to stop them...

A scar on my heart rips open to reveal my emptiness.



via web

morning

We are all captive to our dreams. Some in ways, different to others.
Some days I'm afraid to go to sleep. Scared of what my mind will bring me.
These days I dream in black, and blue.
In the darkness I am alive.
 
But then there comes morning

Copyright © Neerja Yadav

in bloom

It's night. I gaze at the heavens, the vastness of the stars, the patterns sprinkled in the velvet canopy. I want to bathe in starlight, sprinkle it on my skin, and lock it in my heart. I'll gather it and the moonlight and weave them through my hair.

It takes me longer than I anticipate feeling anything. And suddenly am just tired. The fatigue of living taking over, my whole being. I can’t find anything, even my body in space.

One evening, long time back, while partying, I hit my elbow on a glass top, it’s been paining ever since… the searing variety of pain; it just waves on inexplicably, to a point like I double myself and almost cry.

I have no idea about anything.

I used to cut myself up, as a tween and as a teenager. The cuts making perfect red lines. The jagged lines gaping up just enough to make me quaver but the mind really doesn’t feel anything. I applied pressure and wrapped my wrist in a two white kerchiefs and sleep walked through a semi-tomboy semi-goth phase.

“Awww, Mumma, got hurt??” brings me back to this cherubic big-heart-full-of-love boy of mine! I kiss his rosy cheeks, watch his hesitation and the decision to takeout an imaginary phone and call the ‘doctoc’ and ‘nana’ and ‘soma’ and ‘maasi’ and ‘mamu’ and every other name he remembers!

I walk into alternate time-frames. Trip over dreams/nightmares on adit! Everything is a perpetual, “What is happening…?” self-conversation. Everything displaced, misplaced.

As the curtain on the autumn is about to go up… the sun has begun to slant long and golden and low across the pavement, and makes our cheeks light up.

Also, out of nowhere, amidst all the turbulence of living and happily mothering, love arrives like a gift.

Like a thin silver imperfect but deliciously glowing halo cast out among a stampede of everyday and it makes me giddy to have it now, this whisper, this inkling of what it will be, tucked into the pocket of my heart even as I purge the first 1-year of officiated goodbye! Whoosh. There went the year.

Now we eat waffles and sip on hot chocolates while watching Ben 10 reruns in the last light of evening. We light candles after dark. There’s a pinch in the air and amidst all the life-confusions and awaited longish battles; there still is that bellyache laughter and intended-to-be-quickie-but-culminating-into-sweet-slow lovemaking!

And slowly I am arriving. “Hello, New life!”

Copyright @ Neerja Yadav