Whispers of Heart

  What is death, if not the eternal peace Of the soul, And an unhealing wound in the hearts of the dear? But how does death arrive, When you hold your Lord so near? Deaths, in all their forms and phases, Are dreadful. Unpredictable episodes— Who can ever foresee? At times, I wonder: How will mine unfold? Will I be choked to death  by a crooked hand, Or struck down by a car? Perhaps lightning will be my final reason, Or Global Warming in the form of extreme season. Landslides may bury me mid-journey, An asteroid may shatter my tomorrow, Or floods may swallow me whole. A train may collide me into death, Or I may collapse mid-verse, While reciting poetry. Perhaps I’ll freeze in the  harsh Siberian cold, Or dissolve in joy beneath the Northern Lights. Maybe loneliness could bring my doom, Or I pass away in a darkened room, Or it may happen  I’ll rest my last breath On the warm lap of my beloved, Hence, a peaceful, secure death. These haunting scenes of the final destinat...

  When roses are met with no praises, Butterflies with strings, Beauty with melancholy— Who grieves? The thunders you hear are nature’s wrath, Rains pour down as she holds her tears. Her anger comes with the roar of lightning— Nature grieves today, For the delicate heart is hurt. The happy tales she recited Lead to paths unknown. With no peak to this mountain, The wanderer pauses, Collects courage, and descends Empty-handed. The visions, dreams, and coincidences Were hoax, not signs. The wanderer returns to things That effortlessly align With her values and aspirations— To see what the future really holds. This time, No trust in delusional admirations. So even if there’s a homecoming, The wanderer is lost forever. Where is the shelter? Where is the home? For someone who finds home In people Remains unsheltered. Where does the wanderer go When love and rage together grow?  

  The pride, the wealth, the ties strong, What matters who was right or who was wrong? The coffers filled for what sake, When the body lying in coffin does not shake? The disputes, the commitments, the anger held, Somehow, on death, it all get settled. The emotions, the tragedies, the occasion remain memories, Once we cherished, the joy of eating cookies.  Yet, the God existing or non existing, remain the spotlight, For it is believed, he makes one fly high and he cuts the kite.  For the pain, regrets and anxiety, No consolation remains available, The wealth, status and the world seems nonsense, If the minds could be checked - 'unstable' would be the label.  Amidst all the mess and trauma, The only truth of Death dominates, The mind becomes the yard Where thoughts of fear and grief together skates.  The death of the loved ones cause deepest pain to human hearts, It takes courage to build our pieces together for a fresh start. Yet, Death remains the most harsh an...

When summers arrive, yet winter rules the heart,  When everything seems like ending With no hope to restart. When old friends feel like new, And you're understood by only a few, You are perplexed. You question each bond, life and soul, The bonds that once felt like the whole, Now seem stranger, distant and partial.  The breaths - you even dislike to breathe, The  voices, invoices, the sound of the clock- Everything frustrates; it all creates havoc.  You sometimes crave a shoulder to cry on, Yet you now believe in the art of not expecting.  O Pity Perplexity, You seek yet you deny, You adjust yet you complain, You feel wisdom, yet you turn insane.  Maybe the inner chaos affect the words, create commotion.  Maybe the untimely cries express unresolved emotions. Maybe expecting a happy you when the world is upside down Is too much to ask for. What brings peace- Solitude or crowd? A lifeless life or shroud? We have no clue.

It’s been two months since I received your last call, and a second since I imagined your pretty face. It’s completely foolish of me that I could never tell you face-to-face that you were the prettiest, you were the strongest, and I adored you so much. It was always through my poems or the gifts I gave you that I tried to express my love. But I know you knew me—you understood that I am a complex being. Most of my relationship with you revolved around lecturing you on what to do and what not to, when I was truly incapable of even deciding what to wear. I haven’t looked at myself properly in the mirror since I lost your physical presence—because I’m too afraid to face the you that lives in me. I’m afraid because whenever I used to turn away from the mirror, you were always there, and I could ask you whether the dress suited me or not. But now, seeing no you behind me... it hurts. You know, I try to think less about you, because there isn’t a single thought of you that doesn’t bring a...

When the silent cries remain silent no more, You feel like standing on the sea shore. You wish to scream, but you still hold— You're trying your best to mould. The pain, though, feels intense, And the anxious being finds peace no longer In lighting incense. The memories that do not give peace— Even one glimpse brings tears in millions, The dreams that feel real bring fears in trillions. What does the heart long for, When it has turned weak and fragile? What does the body do, When life seems to have stopped for a while? The heart longs for nothing but the beloved who rests in heaven. The heart feels stuck at 9:40, When it's already eleven...