I understand…

I understand, trust me I do.
She didn’t just hurt you bad,
she took the one thing you finally had,
the courage to hand over-
your heart,
and she thwarted it.

I understand,
she swept the meaning of trust,
under the rug,
and your marriage,
was nothing-
more than a sham.

I understand
That when she gets mad,
she gets MAD;
and a man should not lay a hand,
on a woman.
And you felt the brute end of a
woman’s fury,
and I understand that,
most people,
Cannot grasp it-
Cause- you are a man.

I understand you’ve been hurt,
and I understand you are in pain,
I might not really understand the,
emotions you’ve been through,
but I do feel them- when you say it.

Look. Here. Now.
You’ve got me,
We’ve got our lives,
We’ve got a Lord to worship-
at the first string of light;
A kid who calls you daddy,
And sees you as his Knight;
And I know you do not see it,
So I need you to Understand;

I need you to not despair,
In the mercy of your Lord,
He got you out of the darkness،
Bestowed you, a whole new life;
I need you to understand,
We’ll make it- Cause baby steps;
Just do not give up on yourself.

The first decade of life-

The first decade of life.
A kid- that’s what you’re called;
Hurried out of places, like
Mud stain on a white shirt-
Unwanted.

The first decade of life
Passes by with you watching,
Gazing across the adult table,
Wondering,
Dreaming about
when it’d be your turn
To, finally have a seat
At that-
Coveted place.

The first decade of life passes-
While the ladies drown their clothes
In assortments of perfume,
Plastering their faces
With talcum powder-
Eyes a different shade,
Lips a different colour,
And you wonder… Why?
It’s not even Halloween yet.

Then all too soon,
Years roll into decades,
You find yourself sitting at the adult table.
For how long?
You can’t even remember,
And all you really want-
Is that first decade of life… Back.

Day 1: First. This poem is in response to December poetry Challenge. 31 poems in 31 days (I hope I can make it.) 

The above image is courtesy of Pinterest

A conversation with Depression-

Depression knocked on my door,
And I told it,
Have a seat,
It wasn’t even dawn,
At least let me have a cup of coffee,
In peace, at least-
I said to my depression.

Depression knocked on my door,
And I welcomed it
With open arms,
We’ve been together
For so long now,
We might as well be friends,
Right?
Depression knocked and I welcomed it.

Depression knocked on my door,
And we had a one sided-
Conversation,
While the sky turned golden behind us,
I said-
You’ve had your stay
And I have entertained you,
Now- it’s time to take your leave,
I said to my depression.

Depression knocked on my door,
Like an unwanted guest,
Which tends to overstay it’s welcome.
But the birds sung a melodious,
Tune In the background,
And I turned the door knob
To a lock,
With a passion I didn’t think,
Existed within me,
I said to my depression-
We are done!

The above image is courtesy of Our heat is gospel.tumblr

Still Here-

There are days when even I can’t grasp the infinite thoughts floating in my head. I reach out for one but it slips, and on it goes… It is a confusing process really. Those are the days when I spend 24 hours in my pajamas, when I turn on all the bulbs in the house, open up the windows, in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, the light seeping in would lend some of its rays to my head because it had to be dark in there- I couldn’t understand a thing, couldn’t process my thoughts.

I go to my trusted friend coffee, because well, you can’t go wrong with caffeine right? Wrong… And that’s when confusion gives birth to irritation. An irritable mood whose two cures fail me miserably- coffee which refuses to stimulate my nerves to release those endorphins and sleep, which is no where to be found.

There are days when I didn’t think I’d make it, there would be days when I will think I won’t make it… But I will. I’m still here aren’t I? 

The man I couldn’t keep-

It started with a joke
And you laughed,
It wasn’t funny
Still you Laughed,
And I knew
I had got you,
You were mine to keep,
Our children
Would carry your genes.
Our children…
I sigh,
How I envisioned a future
I had little control over,
But you knew.
Oh you knew
Of the finite time in your sand-clock,
Grain by grain..
But I had told daddy about you-
About the man with
Cerulean eyes,
And deep set brows,
About the man who drove at a snail’s
Pace,
About the man who’d father his
Grandchildren,
About the man who
Worshipped his Lord
Five times
Five unfailing times daily,
About the man I thought I could keep
Till the sun rose from the west
Till the trumpet blew
Till I am buried under deep…
I had told daddy all about you.

But the abnormal cells won
Here we are-
I joke,
No one to laugh.
I Stand
You’re buried under deep
Reality seems like a nightmare
But I pray
I pray to the Lord you worship
Worshipped…
The man I thought I could keep
Is at peace.

The above image is courtesy of Pinterest

All that matters-

Born on September
The fifth,
In the midst of a turmoil,
Family crisis;
And there you were-
Yellow eyes
Pale skin
Labelled “jaundice”;
I cradled your frail body
In my arms,
In my weary arms
Weary from the day’s trials;
You burped- I smiled
And that was it,
I had found my sunbeam.

And today-
To think you’d have been,
A past tense;
Engulfed
In flames dancing wildly;
Narrow escape,
They say;
Almost-
Almost didn’t make it;
But you did,
And that’s all that matters;
You’re still here-
That is all that matters.

Nothing left to say-

It was right after the first prayer,
Of the day-
The one called subh;
There you lay on the couch,
Trembling;
The all famous, dreaded
Fetal position,
Mama’s just told you;
“Don’t be surprised
You shouldn’t be surprised “-
The voice in your head screams;
And you recall her saying-
“It’s over.”

And right about then,
The Water-pool flows down your cheeks
And you lay there on the couch,
Shivering.
“Dont cry honey”
“Everything’s going to be alright”-
She says;
And you wonder-
How she could be so calm,
When all around you,
The roof’s come crashing down.

Twelve years old and you lay there,
And you just lay there;
whisper a silent prayer
To The Lord you worship
To overturn the inevitable;
And her voice-
It comes back as an echo,
Again and again;
Resonating against brick walls-
The words she’d blurted-
“It’s over”
“We’re getting a divorce.”
There’s nothing left to say
And the water pool-
You let them flow down your cheeks…

day 20 of October Poetry Writing Month. Prompt: Love and the poetry type I used is: Slam poetry also known as spoken word poetry.   IMAGE CREDIT: 8Tracks.com
Twitter- @WordsOfARandom