Every night when I sit to write
a word or two to tell you
about this loneliness I despise
I end up turning the pages
one by one of our memories
as I cry
as I cry
and when my eyes get tired
and I finally to go sleep
I hold you closer than
my own heartbeats
and I see you there with me
in my dream
in my dream
lying next to me
running hands through my hair
singing me a lullaby that
you’re always here
you’re always here
-Kritika Vashist
Even after all this time
Waiting for your return
Looking back and knowing
How far I have come
Counting the days, the minutes
Writing the songs of longing
You say that it is just a dream
I’ll say,
I don’t mind keeping
My eyes closed forever.
-Kritika Vashist
Your love feels like the soft sunshine falling
On the face when the skin freezes in cold.
Your love feels like boisterous ocean waves
Taking me away every night with your memories.
Loving you is a an un-fathomed dream where;
Sometimes I flutter in an infinite sky of love, and
Sometimes I fall from your hands into a black abyss.
Loving you is getting stung by the honey bees
While tasting their moreish nectar from your mouth.
You, sometimes have been the moon in my dark nights;
You, sometimes have been the darkness itself.
You have been the rain pouring down my talking eyes;
You have been the pilgrim to the soul through my eyes.
You have been my love rose with all its thorns, the one
I let impassioned me, and whose fragrance still lingers.
Loving you was never an experience;
It always has been an endless journey,
Of embracing the pain and nothingness,
Of destroying oneself and rebuilding.
Before I die with this song inside of me,
And before these inimical episodes of life
Take you away and push me off the edge,
I want to sit and sing the song to you,
That I love you in echoing silence.
I love you in piercing loneliness.
I love you in desolation, in happiness.
I love you in my bedspread poetries;
For no reason and for eternity.
-Kritika Vashist
Echoes of the thunder silenced
the love ditty I sang for you.
Unabating force of the rainstorm
dented the soil of delicate love.
The lightning flash cracked
the only hope I had from you.
The limpid blood
of a wounded love
spilled under my feet.
The faith that had kept us together
slid down the skin along the raindrops.
The gravity of your wrath and doubts
pushed down the lightest drop of hope.
The love of acceptance that had kept its
head above water drowned in potholes.
The treasured dream
of being with you
crushed under my feet.
(The footwear in the picture is Kolhapuri Chappal. Kolhapuri chappals are Indian hand-crafted leather slippers. I bought this from Maharasthra, India.)
– Kritika Vashist
From the Soul to the nib of the Pen 