The Union

I am the union
Of two souls
Cast into a mold
They fought against
The union
of what the universe
never permitted
to remain tethered
by more than a cord between hearts
Morphing within
into a noose of sharp wire
I m an impossibility
become possible
I m what was not meant to be
and yet
came to be
I was meant to be
the rose
that blooms
in sands
that are barren
but I became
a prickly cactus
that drew tiny roses each day
out of fingers
That know no better anymore
Than the comfort of ruptured cells
It seems right
Even outside
Even in me
I m the cloud
that is brought about by waters
lost to air
like smoke
that cannot be held in palms
to bring raindrops that the land craves
only to realize
it didn’t want it
the more the droplets soak
into its crevices
the more they teasingly remind it
of its barrenness
of    its      unq u e n c hable    thirst
I am the tree
that was never to take root
in the sands
that didn’t know
where they themselves belonged
but yearned
for a spore to guide them
where they were meant to stay
only to realize
it was not for them
they could not offer strength
which they themselves lacked
I m the one wrong stitch in a tapestry
that falls in shreds over the one wrong twist of threads it took
Which makes it all seem wrong
All the right in it
Regrets the core of each thread
I am the life
That came to be
out of the stench of death
the light that rose from the pit of darkness
that never found its place again
flickering in wake
of what would never be lit by it
I have waged a war against my own self
tearing it
to reform it
in a way
that would keep my roots together
and yet they would be ripped
in opposite directions
taking parts of me
with them
But perhaps
we were never intended to be whole
in that brokenness
I found You
in that brokenness
I recognize you
and in it
I    keep you O Lord    in my heart
till my soul knows
a better destiny

Dedicated to the nation(on incident of Dec 16 massacre)

The untainted souls stand in rows

garbs of such purity ‘pon them

with vacant eyes they look t’wards me

beseeching me:O’ entreating me

to hold their captors in dungeons

and curdle their vile blood with torture

anguish they shall feel the like

Alack! the likes they inflicted

they shall burn with agony

which burns the poor parents

grieving mothers O’ countless

lost their son-like their fathers

to another battle nonsensical

Turmoil of theirs tormenters

must feel:none shall shelter

their likes in our homeland;

said they.The angels guard

over us dwindling they are

our actions driving them away

Must we then anymore sway

Must we then ‘pon them lay

the burden of our sins

on our innocent ones

Must we more then decay

Do we need another black day?

Oh! Do we need black days?




The sweet smelling morning air

takes me to a land afar and fair

in beauty has no match,yet beware

of monsters enticing,lurking in shadows

waiting to pounce and trap it bows

in time towards you,maybe they reside

not in lands unblemished: inside

they live and corrode me.Demons

of my own actions haunt sinister souls

Fighting them,i need the Light:the embers

are dying down.Nothing seems to show

except my naivety.The battle grows tense; the row

unbearable. Yet learn to live without

I do,while dying my death at my own hands within