There she goes
A helpless sack of bones
Her skin has lost its glow
Her feebleness pains me
A helpless sack of bones
She made me leave today
Her feebleness angers me
We can never dance again
She made me leave today
The hospital called while I was home
We can never dance again
Why did you leave so soon?
The hospital called while I was home
You mistook the nurse for me
Why did you leave so soon?
Come back and take my hand
in
one
last
dance.
Tidal Wave
***
I don’t miss you, I don’t.
That’s just the way things are
between you and me.
We pretend to hurl insults,
maybe even flip each other off,
but it’s our secret way of showing love
to one another.
A great chasm separates us.
Miles and miles of
jagged peaks,
rolling plains,
and never-ending forest.
Yet I’ve never felt closer to you
than I do now.
Sometimes I think back
to the times when things were simple.
Peaceful and unmarred by the weight
of responsibilities, life, and growing up.
Now there’s streaks all over,
our bodies smeared with black tar.
But that’s what brings us together.
We feel each other’s pain
and understand one another
in a way that no other person can.
How we used to bicker over the silliest things.
Who is more loved?
Who is stronger?
Who can eat more peppers without tearing up?
Who will buy the biggest vacation home for our parents?
Who will get rich?
Who is better?
Me, of course.
At least, that’s what my younger self would have said
(much to your chagrin, but what can you do about it?
Nothing, because this is my poem, not yours)
You think it’s so mundane –
the act of growing up.
But life is beautiful
in a mundane type of way.
Why expect the extraordinary
when it’s the little things that count?
My love for you
has existed long before either of us
understood what it means,
lying dormant within the confines of my heart
and waiting patiently for the day
you come into being.
The adoration I felt when you were first born,
tiny hands and tiny feet
so delicate
I couldn’t help but flutter and sigh.
I don’t miss you, I don’t.
They say love overwhelms you like a tidal wave.
But how can it overwhelm when it’s always been there?
Mommy, where are you?
Running down the highway
Wind in my hair
I am a princess in the purple mansion
But the right wing is closed off for all,
The guards are always after him.
Tea parties every night,
with mommy’s friends.
They have a cool tricks
Blowing unicorns and stars in our faces
Across the little creek of lava
The start of my private safari
I say hi, and in return are gentle moos
I know the scam like the back of my hand
My ice cream melting,
While I draw The Most Magical Place on Earth.
I am no longer a kid, yet nothing has changed
Kolkata
The blue and yellow cars running on the streets,
are the true stars of the show. The ones you remember forever.
Hustling away, the streets fill you with an exhilarating energy,
the kind that intimidates you, but also makes you feel alive.
Walking down College Street, the smell of those vintage books
lined across the sidewalks, fills in you, a different kind of joy.
The smell of chai mixes in, and the tiny shops of New Market
lure you in. That’s when you realize: you never want to leave.
Hawkers line every street corner, lost in the world
of culinary masterpieces with an unmatched agility and speed,
tantalizing your taste buds with flavor bombs called
Puchkas and Kathi Rolls and Churmur.
You take one bite, and you’re a fan for life.
You can’t forget about the desserts. The oh-so-gooey jaggery
bursting in your mouth, pieces so soft that they crumble in your hand.
The spherical Roshogolla soaking in its beautifully sweet syrup,
a single bite and you’ll sigh your approval.
The bright colors, and the loud people are
the best part of the city. The charming smiles, accompanied
by the infectious laughter will draw you
into this chaotic mess. One visit is all it takes,
And you know you’ll want
to come back.
Apá
The cream adobe walls crumble at my touch
a muted brown stain left behind,
a mark as a testament to forgotten times.
Termites crawl around me,
crafting mounds upon these weathered walls,
undaunted by the ruins that lay intact;
ones no longer cherished, abandoned for a new life.
I roam the lands that he once walked on
where the trickling of the river echoes the memories of the past—
whispering stories of forgotten dreams, happiness, and loneliness—
stories that yearn and scream to be heard.
Pots and pans lay untouched and lifeless,
buried under the brown dirt,
Now resurrected in the palms of my hands
and embraced by the river’s current.
Apá’s green gaze is caught on the reflection of the rusted metal,
tracing the abandoned waters with his fingertips
all lost in the labyrinth of his distant past.
He wonders what has been lost.
Perhaps it was his childhood left uncherished
left to crumble with these four frail walls,
lost deep down inside his unresolved self.
The humid breeze lures him into foreign territories
with hidden emotions guarded in the depths of his heart;
a time full of colors, pain, youth, innocence.
He sprints into a distant memory:
a carefree child roams this ranch splashing in the river waters,
escaping the burdens of his adult life.
Bittersweet it may be, the life once held in these walls;
The warm embrace of a mother’s affection,
the barefoot journeys to his distant school,
the juicy oranges gifted by Santa,
the humble dinners with his nine siblings,
yet still lacerating himself for familial love.
He roamed this ranch, fearless of the distance
Escaping the sweet grasp of death
in this isolated loneliness.
He roamed with tears, a river flowing out of him,
Silently pleading for time to stop
its withering march of his beloved home.
Time has claimed the lives of those he found dear.
Their hands are no longer present to caress his cheek
on gray days of pain and yearning.
Their touch is nothing now but a distant memory,
adrift forever to the great vastness of his mind.
Now, older and wiser, he bends down,
searching for a remnant of his youth in the sand.
A toy car emerges– lost, but not forgotten,
His chuckles fill the air as he playfully pushes the car,
embracing the child within him.
That is him— a small part concealed,
Revealed in the twinkle of his green eyes.
A yearning for what once was,
a dance with his present and past.
His home— the archive that shelters old stories
flows within the remains of the river;
Apá envelopes his younger self,
eyes swelling into a river.
A child forever gone,
but immortalized in his memory.
twinship / laundry / taxes
part of me
lives outside my body,
my heart is sun
burnt and raw
hummingbird breath
gentle hands with claws
my lady lazarus with a
bleeding heart.
eat men,
eat the air i breathe,
you take everything—
but only what i’ve offered.
i hate to be known
you hate to be left alone
on our hands there is
blood, dark and hot
where we came from and
all that we’ve been
the witness of my crimes,
beloved is her name
i wanted to kill you
so that i could live before
half of me was gone
she loves me till our dying day
and every day that has followed
we shed our skin,
bite our tail;
the broken body is born
anew in your eyes,
mirrors of my own
they ask me what it’s like.
i know nothing but this—
what it means to love?
i only know this:
i’m a god, a thief, a sister, a soul–
mate, an enemy, a twin
forgiveness is a sacrifice,
we offer willingly—
a softer heart, a bigger body;
a grief that cuts
a reckoning must be had,
she demands a revelation
am i strong enough
to bear it?
p.s. this has been further edited since the portfolio (in a way that’s still not finished, but definitely more final…not sure how i feel about it but here it is)
There she goes
A helpless sack of bones
Her skin has lost its glow
Her feebleness pains me
A helpless sack of bones
She made me leave today
Her feebleness angers me
We can never dance again
She made me leave today
The hospital called while I was home
We can never dance again
Why did you leave so soon?
The hospital called while I was home
You mistook the nurse for me
Why did you leave so soon?
Come back and take my hand
in
one
last
dance.
Tidal Wave
***
I don’t miss you, I don’t.
That’s just the way things are
between you and me.
We pretend to hurl insults,
maybe even flip each other off,
but it’s our secret way of showing love
to one another.
A great chasm separates us.
Miles and miles of
jagged peaks,
rolling plains,
and never-ending forest.
Yet I’ve never felt closer to you
than I do now.
Sometimes I think back
to the times when things were simple.
Peaceful and unmarred by the weight
of responsibilities, life, and growing up.
Now there’s streaks all over,
our bodies smeared with black tar.
But that’s what brings us together.
We feel each other’s pain
and understand one another
in a way that no other person can.
How we used to bicker over the silliest things.
Who is more loved?
Who is stronger?
Who can eat more peppers without tearing up?
Who will buy the biggest vacation home for our parents?
Who will get rich?
Who is better?
Me, of course.
At least, that’s what my younger self would have said
(much to your chagrin, but what can you do about it?
Nothing, because this is my poem, not yours)
You think it’s so mundane –
the act of growing up.
But life is beautiful
in a mundane type of way.
Why expect the extraordinary
when it’s the little things that count?
My love for you
has existed long before either of us
understood what it means,
lying dormant within the confines of my heart
and waiting patiently for the day
you come into being.
The adoration I felt when you were first born,
tiny hands and tiny feet
so delicate
I couldn’t help but flutter and sigh.
I don’t miss you, I don’t.
They say love overwhelms you like a tidal wave.
But how can it overwhelm when it’s always been there?
Mommy, where are you?
Running down the highway
Wind in my hair
I am a princess in the purple mansion
But the right wing is closed off for all,
The guards are always after him.
Tea parties every night,
with mommy’s friends.
They have a cool tricks
Blowing unicorns and stars in our faces
Across the little creek of lava
The start of my private safari
I say hi, and in return are gentle moos
I know the scam like the back of my hand
My ice cream melting,
While I draw The Most Magical Place on Earth.
I am no longer a kid, yet nothing has changed
Kolkata
The blue and yellow cars running on the streets,
are the true stars of the show. The ones you remember forever.
Hustling away, the streets fill you with an exhilarating energy,
the kind that intimidates you, but also makes you feel alive.
Walking down College Street, the smell of those vintage books
lined across the sidewalks, fills in you, a different kind of joy.
The smell of chai mixes in, and the tiny shops of New Market
lure you in. That’s when you realize: you never want to leave.
Hawkers line every street corner, lost in the world
of culinary masterpieces with an unmatched agility and speed,
tantalizing your taste buds with flavor bombs called
Puchkas and Kathi Rolls and Churmur.
You take one bite, and you’re a fan for life.
You can’t forget about the desserts. The oh-so-gooey jaggery
bursting in your mouth, pieces so soft that they crumble in your hand.
The spherical Roshogolla soaking in its beautifully sweet syrup,
a single bite and you’ll sigh your approval.
The bright colors, and the loud people are
the best part of the city. The charming smiles, accompanied
by the infectious laughter will draw you
into this chaotic mess. One visit is all it takes,
And you know you’ll want
to come back.
Apá
The cream adobe walls crumble at my touch
a muted brown stain left behind,
a mark as a testament to forgotten times.
Termites crawl around me,
crafting mounds upon these weathered walls,
undaunted by the ruins that lay intact;
ones no longer cherished, abandoned for a new life.
I roam the lands that he once walked on
where the trickling of the river echoes the memories of the past—
whispering stories of forgotten dreams, happiness, and loneliness—
stories that yearn and scream to be heard.
Pots and pans lay untouched and lifeless,
buried under the brown dirt,
Now resurrected in the palms of my hands
and embraced by the river’s current.
Apá’s green gaze is caught on the reflection of the rusted metal,
tracing the abandoned waters with his fingertips
all lost in the labyrinth of his distant past.
He wonders what has been lost.
Perhaps it was his childhood left uncherished
left to crumble with these four frail walls,
lost deep down inside his unresolved self.
The humid breeze lures him into foreign territories
with hidden emotions guarded in the depths of his heart;
a time full of colors, pain, youth, innocence.
He sprints into a distant memory:
a carefree child roams this ranch splashing in the river waters,
escaping the burdens of his adult life.
Bittersweet it may be, the life once held in these walls;
The warm embrace of a mother’s affection,
the barefoot journeys to his distant school,
the juicy oranges gifted by Santa,
the humble dinners with his nine siblings,
yet still lacerating himself for familial love.
He roamed this ranch, fearless of the distance
Escaping the sweet grasp of death
in this isolated loneliness.
He roamed with tears, a river flowing out of him,
Silently pleading for time to stop
its withering march of his beloved home.
Time has claimed the lives of those he found dear.
Their hands are no longer present to caress his cheek
on gray days of pain and yearning.
Their touch is nothing now but a distant memory,
adrift forever to the great vastness of his mind.
Now, older and wiser, he bends down,
searching for a remnant of his youth in the sand.
A toy car emerges– lost, but not forgotten,
His chuckles fill the air as he playfully pushes the car,
embracing the child within him.
That is him— a small part concealed,
Revealed in the twinkle of his green eyes.
A yearning for what once was,
a dance with his present and past.
His home— the archive that shelters old stories
flows within the remains of the river;
Apá envelopes his younger self,
eyes swelling into a river.
A child forever gone,
but immortalized in his memory.
twinship / laundry / taxes
part of me
lives outside my body,
my heart is sun
burnt and raw
hummingbird breath
gentle hands with claws
my lady lazarus with a
bleeding heart.
eat men,
eat the air i breathe,
you take everything—
but only what i’ve offered.
i hate to be known
you hate to be left alone
on our hands there is
blood, dark and hot
where we came from and
all that we’ve been
the witness of my crimes,
beloved is her name
i wanted to kill you
so that i could live before
half of me was gone
she loves me till our dying day
and every day that has followed
we shed our skin,
bite our tail;
the broken body is born
anew in your eyes,
mirrors of my own
they ask me what it’s like.
i know nothing but this—
what it means to love?
i only know this:
i’m a god, a thief, a sister, a soul–
mate, an enemy, a twin
forgiveness is a sacrifice,
we offer willingly—
a softer heart, a bigger body;
a grief that cuts
a reckoning must be had,
she demands a revelation
am i strong enough
to bear it?
p.s. this has been further edited since the portfolio (in a way that’s still not finished, but definitely more final…not sure how i feel about it but here it is)