RAVAGED, BRAVE HEART

She sits by the bark of a broken tree,
equating her loss to ride her pensive state of mind

Underneath the vaulted sky,
she softly hums the tune of agony
Resilient as ever;
She mouths in mournful silence, of days, she regrettably remembers

Her face folds in creases made of tangible lines,
older than they appear to be—
like crow’s feet, near those eyes,
they draw glint of every sadness and affliction ever known to mankind

Bare and bleak,
they seem like the branch of the broken tree she sits by
coddling herself to the sweet song of a broken melody

The air is wet and nippy,
Dipped in moist as her face,
waiting on time to heal her wounds,
over days that were lost to lachrymose and pain
Cut those wounds deep open. Time shall heal
She sits for hours by the bark of a broken tree

To heal the wounds that have been inflicted over the loss of a ravaged war, fought and torn within herself There waits an empty house—
attaching to the girth of her hapless tale of sorrow,
countless teachings that have equipped her with a stronger heart and head
She, is, the resilient one

Her face is a shade of yellow from the moonlight falling,
She recalls her maddest moments;
chortling laughter and the confound pain thereafter
She departures from her mixed emotional rollercoaster ride—
which takes her to the many highs and lows she has known and the bygones that are now fading,
into a distant past of a blurry vision,
Indeed, so long to be forgotten

The memory of her pain has receded into nothingness and numbness;
Yet those fleeting moments are a reminder,
as they scornfully visit her to some long lost feeling she once succumbed to;
But now, she is braver than ever,
For this heart is a resilient one

She, now, knows the scabs of her wounds healing,
Her broken heart still beats,
Her eyes shimmer in the light of the moon which stages the center of the sky,
with a sad and hopeful crescent shaped smile,
wayworn to the closing of a starless night
She gapes at a distance
with no recourse to remorse
And a heart, perhaps, that has nothing to lose.

– Shweta Kher

FELLOW TRAVELLER

Greetings from a fellow traveller I see everyday
who carries the whisper of a childish gaze
When our eyes meet,
we greet—
in nods and wordless sentences
breaking them at every minute by the hour

The fellow traveller holds my attention,
at every stop the bus makes—
to accommodate passengers that glide in;
He acknowledges the spot I reserve everyday—by the window seat of the bus I take
catching by the very sunny hour I make

I take an hour’s journey to study him:
convoluted features; expressing a heavy heart,
with so much to convey Deposing no commonness—
He wears a smile that would give a toothache on a sweet candy,
And, a face—
so cheerful, to that of sunlight that pours itself on a windowsill
giving warmth and sunshine on a summer day

As I feel our plausible unretired relationship—
I temper my misgivings and care about this unusual fellow traveller,
He seems to have had something on his mind, I cannot figure nor explain.

In another time, another day,
We broke our wordless sentences—
He asked me the time,
Engaging my eyes onto the words chosen carefully
I accorded my reply

I’d never lose sight of that childish gaze
I’d tell him but wouldn’t that make him run away?
So I stuck to my short answer which I chose very carefully,
with the intent of continuing our ever long unretired relationship—
I resorted to my reticent self
And, so did he,
to the guise of an unusual quiet fellow traveller

But one day, He went so far and away,
I waited by the same spot I take
the sunlight did not pour on the windowsill that day

My apprehensions of where this fellow traveller might be—
grew into that one queasy long hour
Seemingly longer than the usual,
It was my longest one hour, indeed.

To this day, I don’t find the unusual fellow traveller,
For, wherever this fellow traveller may be—
I remember our elaborate sentences
the bluest shirt you wore,
the brown strapped satchel you held onto; co-ordinating the colour of your hair—
You made the mark of an unusual fellow traveller,
A fellow traveller that I long to see,
wherever this unusual fellow traveller may be.

– Shweta Kher