You try to hide your women in thin threads of colour cast and religion. You hide them behind the shattered ceilings of your sin. And you tell them “It’s for your protection”.
You stop women from going out, meeting people, and cover the thick khol of their eyes and you tell them “this is because I love you”.
You beat your women for having a voice, a right, an opinion, revolutionary sight. and you tell them “it’s because you’re mine”.
You are against your women for having an education, to get a degree, and to work in cooperative sector. And you tell them “It’s because you won’t fit”.
You rape your women because the clothes were reveling, her walk was appealing, and sometimes, only because of the gender. And you tell them “It was your fault”.
Every other day, You tell your women things You instruct, You command A lot. And justify saying “You don’t know enough”.
So, today I’m here to tell you. You do all of this because you know, 1. They don’t need your protection. 2. You’re in love with the bodies. 3. They fit everywhere. Because you know If you can fit in them, they can fit the whole world in them. 4. Every time you say it’s their fault, you show your cowardice in accepting yours. 5. And you definitely know, that your women know A LOT, more than all of you combined. And you’re just scared of the things they know.
And everytime you break a woman, you break yourself.
Holding on doesn’t always have to be about people or the stained memories, it’s more complex than what we know. I often leave my poems and pause midway to reminisce the fleeting moments, to find you there once again, which apparently has become my favourite thing to do. I always try to find my face there, try to see the dipping-toes-in-the-moment-me. I am constantly reminded of what I was because of what I am and I fail at being myself trying to hold on to what I was. I write a poem every other day but there is no one to read them; It hardly makes sense to hold on to past self, I know but you gotta hold on to something right? why can’t that something be you?
This constant pressure someone feeling that they are entitled to talk to you daily can be draining ( and can break the bonds too). When going through things, the most creative people can also run out of words and the answer to every question can be nothing more than “okay”.
We keep checking on people , which is a good thing, indeed. But too much care can be toxic too. If everybody starts with “How are you today?” then what else can someone say other than ” I’m fine”.
On some days the best thing we can do for others is to just listen or just be there in silence or just give them the space. Because sometimes, the best thing we can do for others is not to do anything.
When people started to stay home
were learning to untangle their heart,
All the healing took over pain
it was beautiful to see them reading and making art.
Some met their demons
while others danced to uplift their spirits,
They started to think individually
For they realised importance of every life , every breath , their ignorance
– a lesson they were ready to inherit.
It felt like centuries
but people stayed where they were,
For all the eyes were hoping for
the golden age to come back, wind was supposed to come with cure.
When all the suffering passed, all was felt and done, people came together to grieve the losses,
To see the earth healing was relief admist chaos and to never take life granted, to cherish every minute they promised.
Lately, I have been feeling so pissed at world and my head seems full of rants, probably not going to talk about that to someone. So I guess I’m starting to write them down here.
I have been called pretty, beautiful and all the things someone want to hear, but I don’t want to hear that. I wanted to hear something more that that, something that have value to me ( values and ideas vary) .Recently, I met one of my aunts, she looked me and said you’re going to be a great mother…
Okay. I get it. Women are the arc reactors where we put the same ingredients and wait for the same products, the same expected results from generations.
She didn’t ask me about my major or my favourite book, what if I don’t want to be an arc reactor? What if I want to be more that what I already am?
Why people always talk about boobs and womb, why nobody talk about strength and brains? Why they always talk about finding the right guy and have the fucking happily forever and after? Are we living in Disney’s dimension?
Why no one is teaching their kids to be more than what they can be?
Like clouds and rain
we are supposed to let go pain.
It’s said not to dwell on past
but does mind ever stop?
They command you to
walk on betrayal
then talk about hope.
I know you’re running
out of patience and
have been there myself,
I too am
tired of hearing
songs of disguised elf.
You must be brave though
breathing after blood and war,
You have left flesh
and became poetry
I am proud of you
for coming this far.
I belong to this world or maybe I am the world or just a void in space, whatever it is, some days I am so full of life, feels like I could give birth to million galaxies and swallow down the burning meteoroids or maybe save everyone from existential crisis. When I see someone suffering, especially something I have been through and managed to survive, there is this invincible desire to move their world upside down and make them see, how incredibly tiny and pointless their pain/ sufferings are. Then, at the exact same moment I want to stay distant, speak only when asked and help only as much as needed to let others soak up the hell fire and be their own Phoenix.
Everyday, I come across someone who starts or end the conversation with “you/ your words saved me” and I just end up smiling, doing nothing, trying to be distant. Like how!
I can barely drag myself out to at least to breathe. I leave conversations in cliffhanger, don’t reply for weeks, worse, delete my accounts. When I am back from the shell, how everyone is still here? Why everyone is still here?
There is this person living inside me, even after all the hell I put through myself, she never left, she actually refuses to leave. And wants to save everyone, her believes in love are so strong that all my demons cry for her to leave. But she keep trying to pull off these “heroic” scenes. Once I told her, if you must,then save me from myself.To which she replied, “saving is not something you need”.
OKAY. What do I need then?
You can call me narcissist, but my world does revolves around me. I am the greatest weapon of destruction and source of healing I have ever known, and these days..