For so long-

For so long-


We’ve been quiet for so long,
Swallowing our words,
Locking them with clenched teeth.
We bury the memories
(Try to anyway);
But they come roaring back,
Stronger, fiercer
Like the crashing waves at shore.

We’ve been quiet for so long,
Nodding our heads
With upturned lips, and our
Everything is great”
Bound by fear,
Enslaved by memories.

We’ve been quiet for so long,
At the cost of our sanity;
You and me afraid to utter
Yes, it did happen to me.
we swallow our words,
lock them with clenched teeth,
At the expense of our sanity,
And what has that achieved?
We’ve been quiet for too long…

The weight of silence-

The weight of silence-


To the women who watched him punch me and said nothing…
To the men who watched him tear me and did nothing…

I could run, but I couldn’t.
My arms were burdened with
Two children weighing heavy on
Run to where,
to whom,
With them?

I could run, but I couldn’t.
My body was pained from bruises
And contusions and lacerations;
Words now familiar to me, all
Thanks to so many,
Too many,
hospital visits.
He’d be on me before my shadow
Was out the door.
I could run, but I couldn’t.

I could say something, but I couldn’t.
What would words impact
The eyes that have seen fists,
Gracing my skin
Like a punching bag;
Seeing is believing I heard,
You saw- but you did nothing.
What has words gotten over vision.
I could say something, but I couldn’t.

So I caress my limbs with Ice,
And swallow my words
As darkness envelopes the sky..
A coward- maybe.
But how do you sleep at night
With your silence?

Writer’s Poem: Our Silence…

Writer’s Poem: Our Silence…


Have you heard of the term “Bystander efffect”. This came about after a 28 year old woman, Kitty, was raped, stabbed and murdered outside her apartment while 38 people looked on and did nothing.

This led to a research carried out in 1969, five years after Kitty’s murder, which was termed Bystander Apathy (effect). Basically, it proved that the more people there are available in an emergency situation, the less likelihood there is for someone to intervene.

Today’s poem reminds me of this story and forgive me for starting this post with a downer. But, I thought to share it because I believe we all need a reminder that as heavy as our words, our silence is also heavy too.

Town watches them take Alfonso by Ilya Kaminsky

Now each of us is
a witness stand:

Vasenka watches us watch four soldiers throw Alfonso Barabinski on the sidewalk.
We let them take him, all of us cowards.
What we don’t say
we carry in our suitcases, coat pockets, our nostrils.

Across the street they wash him with fire hoses. First he screams,
then he stops.
So much sunlight—

a t-shirt falls off a clothes line and an old man stops, picks it up, presses it to his face.
Neighbors line up to watch him thrown on a sidewalk like a vaudeville act: Ta Da.
In so much sunlight—
how each of us
is a witness stand:

They take Alfonso
And no one stands up. Our silence stands up for us.

Writer’s Quote: Silence

Writer’s Quote: Silence


Welcome to another writer’s quote/poem wednesday. I just want to clear the air that Billy Collins isnt exactly my favorite poet. He writes a lot in a humorous fashion and although i love a good comedy and a good laugh, I prefer my poems sad. 

That  being said, he has written some great poems like “the litany“, “on turning ten” and the poem i’m sharing today- Silence. I hope you enjoy it, I think you will.  (P.S- the above quote is by him)

Silence by Billy Collins

There is the sudden silence of the crowd
above a player not moving on the field,
and the silence of the orchid.

The silence of the falling vase
before it strikes the floor,
the silence of the belt when it is not striking the child.

The stillness of the cup and the water in it,
the silence of the moon
and the quiet of the day far from the roar of the sun.

The silence when I hold you to my chest,
the silence of the window above us,
and the silence when you rise and turn away.

And there is the silence of this morning
which I have broken with my pen,
a silence that had piled up all night

like snow falling in the darkness of the house—
the silence before I wrote a word
and the poorer silence now.

O- October lessons

O- October lessons


Don’t take my silence,
As my innocence,
Or the naivety of a girl.
For the girl in me,
Had died long before,
Your ring ever touched my hand.

Don’t take my silence,
As a proof you’ve won,
For your barks more than your bite;
And I’ve fought more battles,
Than you’ll ever see,
And emerged each time a victor.

Don’t take my silence,
as anything but,
A remembrance of mama’s word,
One October morning,
bless her soul, she said-
never stoop down to a fool’s worth.

the above image is courtesy of Beautiful

Today was not okay-

Today was not okay-


Curled up.
Nowhere to run
No one to run to
The silence- haunting
Limbs- trembling
Face, stained
In all the right places.
Today- was not okay.

A while,
A long time it took-
Regained composure
Silence, still haunting
Limbs- exhausted
Face- weary;
Today- was not okay.

An overdue setback;
Overtaking emotions;
Grim thoughts- engulfing
Alone- vulnerable
The thoughts won that time.

Was not okay;
The thoughts- raging;
She did get through it;
She knows she can-
Tomorrow will be okay.


All you ever did-

All you ever did-


You watched her put out,
The light in my eyes;
You stared as the darkness,
Consumed my mind;
Not a sound
Not a word
Oh what a man you were!
Rooted in one spot.
You saw me burn.

She spat out venom,
In the form of words,
Cruel to the backbone-
You never utter a word.
I shrank in size
Wilted inside
Unfazed you watched your,
Little girl come undone.

She owed me no pleasure,
We weren’t blood;
But you my father,
You owe me the world.
Her words they stung;
Your silence even more;
Blood’s thicker than water,
You proved-
Was naught but words.

P.S:  The father- daughter relationship in this poem is solely to depict the depth of hurt. A family is supposed to hold the strongest ties, there are some people in our lives though not blood relations, they become family to us. And when those people betray us, the hurt runs deep like that of blood. Just thought I should clear the air that although the poem is personal, I’m not referring to my father here. 🙂


Nobody knows…

Nobody knows…


Nobody knows,
The pain a soul can carry;
It’s not measured, can’t be-
We just trudge forth, dragging.

Nobody knows, it’s bottled inside;
Even if they do, they won’t understand;
The cries of the heart,
The sorrow it hides-
It gets heavy, nobody knows;
We get weary, they still don’t know;

It hurts…it bleeds
The heart weakens-
Still nobody knows.

They couldn’t, could they?
In silence, we bear the pain;
we think they won’t understand,
‘We think’- our tragic flaw.
In the end, still… Nobody knows
We leave believing- nobody can.