B e n e a t h, Page 2

  Mermaid

  water splashing

  in little

  bubbles all

  around.

  the waves light 

  up in shades

  of ardent 

  blue and 

  sunlight

  which travels on these

  waves make its

  way toward me.

  i dive deep

  inside the

  water with

  muscles

  ripening underneath

  and open my eyes.

  for the first

  time.

  for the first time

  i am awake, 

  i am breathing,

  underwater,

  underground,

  under me,

  everything is 

  crystal clear

  and the ocean bed

  so blue.

  it aches 

  painfully to

  see such

  beauty and

  i swim 

  deeper with little

  bubbles trailing

  behind me.

  my arms

  stretch out as

  if to catch the

  light that

  filters this water.

  fishes swim by

  noiselessly,

  brushing past

  me in gentle waves.

  the water sets me

  free and clutches me

  hard in its grip.

  i struggle

  i float

  a whole new life

  beneath here

  with words 

  of enchantment

  whispered 

  in the ears

  and eyes filled with

  sunlight, small 

  sparks flying out 

  of them.

  it is 

  as the soul

  is cracked open

  and finally i

  can breathe.

  i laugh, 

  a gurgle

  with bubbles

  tumbling up.

  the hair floats in the

  water,

  having a life

  on its own

  and i have never

  felt so alive.

  and i swim

  deeper

  and deeper

  and deeper

  and reach the

  ocean bed,

  a sandy ruin 

  a vast

  kingdom

  of these incredible

  creatures

  and i sit down,

  my hair tumbling up

  and eyes full of

  water.

  i don’t want to go

  back up.

  where there are people

  who

  ruin your

  soul.

  Life

  It is so much better

  Like this.

  With this

  Gentle

  Light

  Drizzling down

  Leading me to sleep.

  i can stay,

  cant i ?

  I am a mermaid.

  Scar

  She holds her

  Head up high

  Her eyes roam in the

  Sky

  The blue of it

  Reflected

  Brighter,  sharper

  In her eyes

  Her clothes

  Clung to her

  Body in

  Soft curves and bends

  And her mouth

  Curved upwards into

  A smile

  Her hair scattered

  In long and short

  Waves of red

  And her scar

  From her eye

  To her

  Lips

  Run deep

  A past

  Long forgotten

  However dark

  Long forgiven

  And though

  Many say

  Its a pity

  She laughs

  A hearty laugh

  And says

  “I wouldn’t

  Want it any

  Other way”

 

  Car Ride To Nowhere Particular

  my head on

  the seat rest,

  looking at the

  sky,

  a clear

  retreat 

  up

  outside.

  two eagles

  fly

  overhead

  with

  brown

  wings stretched

  in a huge

  embrace with

  the clouds.

  they cut the

  sun in

  two,

  their 

  bodies

  against the

  bright light.

  my head 

  up in the

  clouds,

  my feet 

  on the 

  chair,

  with 

  a chaotic

  mess of

  green leaves

  and pale

  brown branches.

  the car

  is moving

  everything

  a blur,

  the music

  flying

  in the air.

  the car is

  moving,

  and i am

  leaving.

  take me

  with you,

  wherever 

  you go.

  they believe

  leaving to be

  a sin,

  but it is

  our innocent

  pleasure.

  we are leaving.

 

  Strong People

  why do people

  forget

  that even the

  strongest people

  have some

  weak moments?

  when the gallant

  blaring flame

  starts 

  dwindling.

  when the vast,

  majestic ocean

  starts 

  draining up.

  when the people

  who you 

  believe to be 

  invincible

  have shadows

  threatening to

  pull them in

  the darker side.

  you see them

  everyday

  with their head

  held high,

  so why do you

  tremble when

  their heads

  bow down in

  moments of 

  grief and solitude?

  for nobody

  is brave 

  to the core.

  they fear,

  but act;

  they grieve,

  but smile;

  and when they

  nod off to sleep,

  their eyelids

  fluttering off

  to another world,

  oh they seem so

  Vulnerable .

  but it is then

  when they are 

  their strongest

  with their dreams

  and wishes

  riding alongside

  them.

  this courage,

  of knowing your

  fears and even

  then fighting

  them,

  this courage

  makes them

  sparkle

  with such

  force.

  so why, when

  the darkness

  threatens 

  them, to steal

  this flame,

  why do they

  forget that

  brave people

  fear too?

  why do they

  forget that

  i am afraid

  too?

   

  A Passerby Artist


  fervent, 

  hot,

  burning,

  eyes blazing

  with this 

  ardent desire.

  those eyes

  shone,

  oh they shone

  brighter than any

  any star in 

  the sky,

  no, no dear,

  they were the

  sky themselves.

  with the whole

  galaxy 

  breathing inside

  those thin

  covers.

  and her hands,

  yes her thin

  bonny hands 

  with those

  long fingers,

  ecstatic 

  and 

  beautiful

  spreading

  a thick

  smear of

  blue 

  in the rough

  canvas.

  and as she

  smiled,

  her thin

  lips stretching

  i swear,

  at that moment,

  a whole

  harmony went off.

  each note

  dedicated

  to her,

  and her alone.

  this melody

  so bitter sweet, wrapping

  in thin curves

  and tendrils

  around her.

  rugged pair

  of jeans,

  barefoot

  and totally,

  deeply,

  passionately

  in love with

  the paints in front

  of her.

  this was passion,

  i felt,

  as my fingers 

  started 

  tingling with

  longing.   

 

  Silhouette

  a classmate died

  today.

  exhaled, jumped

  and died.

  a person

  had just turned

  into a story,

  her smile into

  a memory.

  she was here

  yesterday,

  where is she

  now?

  this disappearance

  is so foreign,

  so shocking.

  goosebumps,

  teardrops.

  she is not here

  yet everything

  is the same.

  is it a sin

  to feel so numb?

  i do not need words

  the silence is much

  more comforting.

  just remember her

  for who she

  was, and

  nothing more

  or nothing less.

   

  so fragile is a

  human life.

  a wire just

  waiting to be

  cut.

  how easily

  we all die.

  i despise others

  for talking,

  making a tragedy

  into a gossip.

  but can i really

  beg to differ…

  when i have already forgotten her face?

   

   

  Dear Unborn Child

  live a long 

  life, alright?

  sweetheart, live

  a long life.

  with many

  books to

  read, with

  smiles and tears

  and the scent

  of these old

  books.

  and so many

  walks to take

  on days

  when you are

  alone

  and days when 

  you are with me.

  and so many

  beds to dream in

  and waking up

  in a bright

  or even rainy

  morning. 

  and even to

  live with a

  broken heart.

  to cry your

  heart out

  and then pry

  open your

  ribcage to let

  out the light.

  to have those

  absolute pure

  moments of warmth

  when you are holding

  someone close to

  your heart,

  close to your

  heart.

  when you are watching

  them sleep

  and wondering

  if they are

  thinking of you

  just the way

  you are thinking

  Of them ?

  and then

  darling ,

  there

  are so many places you are

  yet to see with those

  huge, hopeful

  eyes of yours.

  and so many

  people

  yet to meet

  and yet to love,

  to let them fill

  you up with

  such love and life that

  you feel as if you

  are bursting!

  and also 

  you are yet to

  know yourself

  and who you are.

  to peel of that

  beautiful

  layer of skin

  and discover 

  yourself.

  and on these

  days when i think

  of you 

  i smile

  for i am sure

  that you

  will live

  a long life

  with lots of 

  heartaches,

  happiness,

  grief,

  wonder,

  hope,

  love,

  and maybe even with me.

  i want you

  to see the world

  and the people

  inside it

  with your own

  eyes and love

  them with your

  heart.

  and even when

  i am not with

  you,

  do this for

  me- live

  a long life.

  live happily

  live freely.

  live just the

  Way you want.

  Make a life you

  Love.

  this i ask

  as a mother

  to you.

  vivid

  crimson eyes;

  sometimes they see

  such acute events

  like the raindrops

  on window stills,

  red bricks moist

  and a good smell.

  like teardrops on

  lashes 

  and the aftermath 

  of a good cry. 

  like vivid green

  of blades of grass

  and buttercup

  of your embrace.

  like the shine

  of water on the 

  pavement

  and your hazelnut

  eyes.

  like the worn out

  edges of old books

  and the smell

  of new ones.

  like the nape of your

  neck and the

  smooth edges of 

  your knees.

  like a map

  of your body,

  and my exploration.

  oh what a 

  blessing it is

  to experience such

  intense feelings,

  when your eyes are 

  open, and so is 

  are mine.

 

  Inked

  do you wonder 

  if every letter,

  every word,

  every sentence,

  every thing that

  you carelessly

  utter from

  that pretty red

  lips of
yours,

  gets engraved

  in that ivory 

  skin of yours.

  hot steaming

  words, freshly

  spoken 

  with a blue 

  flame, yellow sparks

  get written on 

  your frail arms

  and legs and 

  appendix.

  spiraling 

  throughout 

  your vast

  landscapes,

  wrapping tightly

  like tendrils 

  in a sunny day.

  all giving a 

  hot pleasure 

  on being burned

  down to 

  your cool skin.

  the black ink 

  spelling 

  your life

  in bold words.

  and then