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

Remember to Forget

It's been so long 
That she's counted hours that've added to days
And days that've to months 
All of which she'd spent to remember to forget you 

Years have repeated themselves over 
Bringing back all the first times and all the first days 
Driving her down to all the first places
Where she continues to take herself to remember to forget you

She grew from being naive 
To one that wouldn't ever be again 
She struggles now, to conceal her limp, for the hard crutches of resilience have begun to hurt too
Yet, pushes herself, and never ceases, to remember to forget you 

For what have you brought her
But grief and humiliation, and endless sleepless nights
Letting her go just when she would begin to believe you would never
The faith that has been walked over, only reminds her each day to remember to forget you

Don't bask in the light of irreplaceability and pride 
It was the best love you just let out and it's a roundabout life we're talking about
The limp would recover soon, and she'd walk far and away steady 
But you'd drown in the marsh of falsity you stepped yourself into, struggling to forget to remember her.

– Divya Rathi

Praising the Assassinating Provocations

As the nib of my pen begins to run wild on the blank paper 
And thoughts come gushing to my conscience, calling to be set free into space
It feels like I've been devoid of my own self for too long
And it calms me down to have found my way through the mystifyingly infinite maze of diabolic charms.

I've returned triumphant from the prolonged battle
Conquering desolation, deceit and destiny.
I've been bent and broken, certainly
But their hammers have carved me into better shape.

So I move on and about now, to build myself a home 
In this space where I belong 
Away from the realms of treacherous commitment 
A small beautiful home large enough to be filled in with devoted vision, pious affection and radiant desires.

It's almost celestial to embark on this journey
To trod the path enlightened with aspirations 
To allow the arms of the clock to wipe of the scars 
For triumph indeed is in learning from defeat.

I am walking myself into blooming tomorrows
Walking ahead of the worn out yesterdays.
I start off to build the residence of my resurrected effervescence
While praising the assassinating provocations that continued to bring me to life.

– Divya Rathi

Pallbearer Of The Past

She continued to sit by the window
As the summers transformed to winters
The sun lit the bronze in her hair and revealed the hollows of the fawn eyes
The eyes that were once embraced with splendour unfathomable
And are now worn out fantasising the paradoxical return of the chariot that carried away all of her desires

Her soul became an impermeable enclosure of burnt hopes
Concealed to perfection with an illuminated face bearing gleaming smiles 
But the smiles that once illuminated her eyes are long dead 
And resurrection is beautiful but fiction
Fiction that she now holds against faith

Having built an existence around the passions that she lost in the battle with herself
Having constructed domes of the present with the ashes of burnt hopes
She has been called thoughtless and miserly
But wasn't it finer to survive a promising delusion
Than to return back to grimace over actuality that is just a pallbearer of the past?

–Divya Rathi