The Darkest Night

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The blue sky unveils itself
exposing its darkest layers
where I pin my sorrows
the reflection of which
flashes into the watery eyes
The quiet inter-flow of sweat
of the frozen skin with tears
warms up the numb emotions
The mind gets heavy while the
weight of my steps drop off
The wind howls in madness
only to peel off my skin, slowly
to let the melancholy assail me
while sorrows sways on the
morbid beats of the darkest night.

– Kritika Vashist

Esoteric Man

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Artwork by Birgitta Bachmann

As the night wraps itself in velvet silence
He unveils his serape of feigned happiness

The lugubrious reflection of light through the glass
half filled with his drunken musings of night
half filled with whirling wind of her memories
falls on the tear-stained pages clasping his insanity.

The words of heartaches etched relentlessly
He gives voice to the aphonic cries of the blues.

The windstorm rushes in through the broken windowpane
blowing away the inked poetries into many pieces
breaking the glass of survival into many fragments
destroying each spoken-unspoken word that never sufficed.

The dead and buried floats on the blood oozing out
Indelible suffering carved in the cuts of an esoteric man.

-Kritika Vashist

True Acceptance

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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

The Wait

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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