And how doesn’t the shimmering light
in the darkness give you strength?
I know that you fear trembling, but isn’t life all about daring to take a step?
– Kritika Vashist
You walk the road with those
you believe wish good for you.
Each step that you take
walking in the shoes they say
that invite acceptance from them.
Each word that you speak
learning from those who disguise
themselves as the most truthful.
Each glance that you take
through the shallow reflection
from the glass facade they wear.
Each smile that you fake
aching the skin around your mouth
to be a part of their world of acceptance.
You keep walking their road
wanting to be accepted by them.
Your hands shake holding the drink
you always hated, forcing yourself
you gulp it down your throat while
your heart gulps another regret, silently.
Your skin feels like an innocent prisoner
suffocating behind the bars built by the
self-proclaimed righteous who rule the
world of acceptance you want to be in.
With the same sound of steps and words
you enter the place you call home, that
accepts you unconditionally and lovingly.
You put off weight that you carried
and look at the mirror, showing the dirt
you foolishly picked while walking the
road taking to their world of acceptance.
You bend more to see the true reflection
of your contemplative eyes, insight-fully
and you realize that their shine has been
lost in the blurring iniquitous light they
throw on them only to mislead you.
In silence, you hear the cries of your heart
and you realize that the only thing that
matters the most is to accept yourself truly
in all shades of life, for every inch of your skin.
– Kritika Vashist
Lost in you, the silent night,
where there is peace and seclusion,
where just my heartbeats are audible,
where remembrance of your love is antidote for distress.
I’m loving you, in silence.
Lost in you, dreamy eyes,
where forever our soul entwine,
where we promise to love evermore,
where you are the reason for my existence.
I am loving you, in dreams.
Lost in you, the fragrant quilt,
where I feel your terraces,
where you twine a wisp of my hair,
where our souls couple.
I am loving you, in fancy.
Lost in you, eloquent words,
where you obliquely call me beautiful,
where I throb in happiness,
where you portray our unceasing love.
I am loving you, in poems.
Lost in you, serendipitous ditty,
where broken lyrics string with flair,
where unmusical voice gives pleasure sensations,
where stars are more soothing than the moon.
I am loving you, in songs.
Lost in you, the perfect drizzle,
where we sense each other’s texture,
where the clean water taper the friction,
where the music is pitter-patter of raindrops.
I am loving you, in rains.
Lost in you, the unembellished window,
where I feel the warmth of your eyelids,
where sunbeam makes you shimmer artistically ,
where the glass captures the real adoration.
I am loving you in lights and shadows.
Lost in you, the wondrous painting,
where my name forms the colours,
where a single word completes the picture,
where the thick ink fails to clog the outline.
I am loving you, in delineation.
Let me remain lost in you,
let me keep loving you;
for your love is heavenly!
(So, Arpita, a fellow blogger who nominated me for Libester Award asked me about my favorite post/poem, and I had realized that I haven’t share it with all of you. This is the poem I had written last year and is my favorite for some unknown reason. I just like it the way it is. )
You know how every night
the sea waits for the moon
to come and throw its
luminous light all over her?
The moonlight falls and
the waves glow mystically.
The sea waves would
complain about how long
she waited for him to come;
The moon would shimmer
letting her know how much
he missed her, making her
forget about all grumbles.
After all the glances and
exchanging smiles and blushes
the surrounding would get
filled with the aura of tranquility.
The surreal scene then
would do all the talking.
The friendship between
the sea and the moon is
wondrous and unparalleled
where, one lights up the other
and one shows the other
reflection of its true self.
Sometimes she would get jittery
if he doesn’t appear in time,
but the hope doesn’t vanish;
for she would always know
that he is just behind those
dark gloomy clouds
he struggles against
almost every evening.
The sea continues to wait
in anticipation for the moon
to come and ask her
if she missed him too,
and she would wave high
and say that yes she did
more with each cloud passing
and when the sky covered
itself in another different layer.
You know, chum?
That’s how I see us
and exactly how I wait
to see you every day.
– Kritika Vashist