The Lost Words

Staring at the blinking bar

Wondering how the tides have crossed

with much done and undone

much found and lost 

much said and silenced

much surfaced and drowned

Thought words decided to stay in the world where the pen was last put to paper

But as being sought was a corner with a lull

in the depths of sighs 

Rinsing through the muck of all the noise of the much 

There lay beneath the pile 

My words waiting, 

with half a smile of understanding

with arms extended for an embrace of knowing

with eyes that spoke straight to the soul

with the voice of the birdsong at the break of the dawn,

to come back to me...

.d

  

Question

Do, what shall we, to cease to question 

Why this all matters 

The race of egos 

The clash of expectations

The need for compromises 

The needlessly needful complication of existence.

Do, what shall we, to cease to question

Why are ourselves so hard to explain

Aspirationally so away from convention 

Our demons riding over our angels

Yet, us placing over them, a hand of harmony 

Do, what shall we, to cease to question

Why does their necessity shine in sacrosanctity 

While ours shadows in servitude 

As we wage suppositious wars 

To step up to demand and equate 

Only to extinguish them, with our lull

Do, what shall we, to cease to question 

Why we can’t be looked at for who we are 

Over being critiqued for who we could be

As we put in our greatest to bare our souls 

Only to become slaves of the images that they built of (for) us

Do, what shall we, to cease to question

Why they would only lend us a ear 

To hear, never listen 

To slander, never sympathise 

Up until then, that our voices lose life, our words - their meaning

Do, what shall we?

Cease to show? To see?

Cease to talk? To listen? 

Cease to feel? Be felt? 

Think?

Trust?

Question? 

Don’t Call Me Home

For there wait the winds of my past to

Engulf me yet again to relive

Stories that left me bruised 

Deep within where

Even the rays of healing fade

For there lies the fragrance of 

The oil of the lamp that burned 

When in harmony, my dreams burned along

Moment after moment for

A myriad sleepless nights 

For there stay conversations that

Have floated over the pyres of 

Abandoned promises of monumental loves that 

Once added life to life 

Only to have created a mirage of nothingness

For there haunt the 

Dark and deserted shadows of 

Who I used to be who 

I wish I could go back to being who 

I must though never become

...don’t call me home

— Divya Rathi

The Crimson of Dusk

Against a bustling life
A howling mind
The world moans
With dismay of defeat
Poverty of content
And tears of separation

I watch
With hands, folded
And vision, blurred
Thinking, and sinking
With fright and apprehension
Could my world be at stake too?
I lift my head
To spot the heavens
With a vision, still blurred
Yet a conscience, immaculate and clear

I watch
What doesn’t need clarity of vision
Only thought and intent
The crimson of dusk
A spectacle for the world

It smiles at me
The blush in infinity
Exhorting resilience
Assuring the return of the warbler
Calling it a day

Assuring certainty
Beyond the uncertain
Another day
Beyond the night
A beginning
Beyond the finishing line

It calls out to me
To tell me that
Even though heavens may now fall
They rise tomorrow
For if I am the creator
I also destroy sorrow

And as my conversation with the crimson ends
With the blush fading away
I’m more at peace
Tranquil
A believer
Of the down of the sun
Over its rise


--Divya Rathi

Discovery

I went all out
Looked for salvage 
I came too far to escape reality and dodge expectation
But the demon is there
Following me around 
Replacing my shadow with itself 
I look for middle ground 

I run 
As far as I can 
I be 
As swift as I could
Until a dead end shows up in front of my eyes 

Blank. An infinity of quiet and gray
A quiet bereft of peace shouting out to the hollows of my soul 
I turn around 
The demon stands tall in all his might 

I cant take this. Except. I must.
No. No fear. No panic. No frenzy. No dismay. 
This is the part where you pull off your guards yet hold them strong
Face the thunder and fight the waves 

I shut my eyes and mother speaks 
Sailors are made of storms, she screams
And beyond the demon lay 
The way, the destination and white filtered off the gray 

And in that duel with the dark 
I lead myself to an encounter with
who I used to be and who I must become  
I finally know who I am, to where I head,
from where I come

From your perspective 
I was a gold digger 
What better a treasure 
Than finding myself 
In letting myself lose you. 

–Divya Rathi

Rationale

Rationale has ruled us longer, perhaps, than the era of colonisation.
For good, some would say,
While along with others I'd beg to differ, 
Differ for I have known logic to have slain surreal dreams for realistic ones,
And drifted apart in a sense, science from art. 

They would say I was poetic until I wasn't anymore,
And this, because one fine day I chose to believe life came with more thorns than roses.
The strength with which I bore the belief made it hard for me to look forth, 
I now stood on my own two feet bouldering the hallway of my imagination that once knew no bounds.

I chained myself to look at pigments rather than hues,
To feel the Mercury rather than warmth,
To study psychologies rather than endearing emotions.
With the concretes of my pragmatism I let the nature of my being be devastated. 

This we but allow to happen to each of us,
Be consumed by rejections and failures,
Forgoing the heritage of our visions at the behest of the concretes of our cognition. 
And hence the education that was meant to empower the existence ends up instead, shooting bullets right into the soul of our souls. 

Grow by leaps and bounds, I do not argue against that, 
But do not let the magnificence of achievement diminish the power of belief.
Believe still in the early morning dreams and believe in the ballads of ethereal romance, 
For the essence of what you are lies in what you can see beyond the proven and documented.

I decide now, to hold my pen up again, and firm
Break free of all barriers of judgement before they engulf me into a lifetime of captivity and lull. 
Stirring my volition away from the accustomed, I lead myself into seeing more than the visible, 
And with that, I'm a poet again.

-- Divya Rathi

The Baton of Fear

Ever wondered, what would happen if the skies fell down upon you while you lay under them gazing the starlight 

Or if the sun burnt you alive while you embraced the warmth of it into your lives

As irrational as this are the fears that web your existence 

Irrational still is the escapade you deemed would lead you out of the fear 

Before you knew it, it had consumed all of what you used to be 

And implanted instead, a life succumbed and subservient to itself 

Stop now. 

Stop erecting citadels to keep the fear from permeating through 

Step out of the sheepish shell and buy what life offers to sell to you 

Now is the time to be faced with the fear that floats around 

Never again if not this day 

For its wiser to battle and conquer the riches that most crave

Than carrying a burden of apprehensions to the grave 

The choice is simple and clear 

You're either alive or you're dead

No other poles were ever attached to this thread 

The greatest of lives were lived beyond the horizons of fear 

For the true meaning of success was to defeat the fear that failure bears 

So hold firm the baton of fear that has been handed over 

It is both an onus and an opportunity 

Do not let the onus restrict you, allow yourself to be liberated by opportunity 

Run wild and chase your dreams by letting the fear set you free. 

– Divya Rathi