Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Sai Kurup Aug 2021
love.

what does it mean to be loved? to love? to be in love?

does it mean offering a lifelong stream of endless care and support?

is it passionate embraces or stolen touches?

is it the warm, comforting feeling of home?

does it mean getting into a petty argument and realizing you could never stay angry?

l-o-v-e. love. i’ve said it in my head enough times for it to sound like some strange nonsensical sound rather than a real word.

can you ever stop loving? can you fall out of love?

how much love does the world need to heal from its wounds?
Sai Kurup Apr 2021
This land, foreign, yet so welcoming
Who would've known
I would own land
halfway across the world
from the homes of my ancestors
or rather,
this land would allow me to borrow it
prosper from it
and make it my home

Trees sway to the melody
of a warm summer breeze
Chirping birds and bubbling streams
the harmony
And I, simply another passing traveller
In the eternal life of this land

Who was here
100, 500, 1000 years ago?
Who knew this land
like the palms of their love?
Who sat here,
as I do now,
eyes closed
taking in the music of this land
soul at peace
knowing it was home?

This land, my new home,
and so, so welcoming
Sai Kurup May 2019
Sixteen letters
Two words
Is it
Too much to ask
of a people
That colonized worlds
And destroyed civilizations?

Let it slither
On your tongue
Let it glide
Down your throat
Until it rests
Close to your heart

Breathe it in
Until it dissolves
Into the crimson
That runs in your veins
And flows
Beneath your skull
Into your mind

For too long
I’ve cowered
Inside a cave of nicknames
And excuses

If you can pronounce
Daenerys Targaryen
You can say
My name
Sai Kurup May 2019
The same questions
The same curious stares
The same judging tones
Just different continents
And me
A road between them

In my old home
A sleeveless shirt?
Your legs are exposed?
An American accent,
Guess you’re not one of us anymore.

Must be a lot of school shootings, huh?
We’re working on it
I promise

In my new home
Why are you wearing that?
What’s on your forehead?
Why are you eating with your hands?
That’s gross.
Speak English, you’re in America.

There’s a lot of open defecation, right?
We’re working on it
I promise

If only you listened
To each other
And yourselves
If only you realized
How different
But similar you sound
If only
Sai Kurup May 2019
The invisible scar
Of the patriarchy
Hangs over us
Masked by the shadows of tradition
Concealed within
Dazzling bursts of color
Billowing skirts
And spirited dancing

Hot acid flung
Scathing, searing, scalding
Because weak men
Cannot handle rejection

Wed the one you love
And bring shame
Upon the family
Honor killings
Does ******
Bring Dignity?

#JusticeforNirbhaya
#JusticeforAsifa
And now #JusticeforAiman
Our only crime
Is being female
Yet fingers are still pointed
At us
At the length of our dresses
At the makeup on our faces
At the way we smiled

How long
Until we are finally fed up
With a society
That would rather
A corpse
Over a girl?
Sai Kurup Apr 2019
They try to knock me down
Shatter me into a million pieces
As many times as there are stars
In the vast universe
I am strong.

You are wrong, they say
I am Copernicus.
The sun is the center of the universe,
No matter how powerful I may be
I am Wegener.
The earth has always been
drifting apart
Much like your narrow minded logic
I am Semmelweis.
Wash your hands
But the blood on your hands
Will remain until the end of time
I am strong.

They underestimate me,
You are nothing but a speck of dust
No, no
I am capable.
I am an achiever.
I am strong.
Sai Kurup Apr 2019
Sometimes I wonder
What life would've been like
Had I stayed.
Concentrate hard enough
And I can relive
Those nostalgic memories
All over again.

Boys, playing cricket
As the blazing sun glared down.
People streaming out of
Mosques, temples, churches
Like the swarms of mosquitoes
That come out at dusk.
The mouth watering scents
Of sweet, juicy mangos
And savory roasted peanuts
Mingling with deafening horns
Of rickshaws on the roads.
Lying under the ceiling fan
On straw mats the color of
Fiery sunsets and
Woven gold
Reading for hours on end
About great queens
Powerful Kings, fierce warriors

Why did I leave?
Did I make a mistake?
Should I be in this country
That doesn't want me for me?
For my skin tone,
My religion, my race?
They boast of equality
and freedom
But it doesn't deliver anymore.
Accused of not
Belonging, not assimilating.
All because I'm proud.
Proud of my other half,
My homeland, my heritage.

But then I look forward.
What do I see?
My father,
Treating his patients
With the compassion
Of a parent to his own child
Despite the hateful words
That stab, pierce
Like scorching knives.
"You're stealing our jobs!"
"You're not a real American!"
My mother,
Trying to rebuild a new life
Out of the ashes she brought
From our old home,
Ashes that once resembled
The burning fire
Of a luxurious life
Where she had everything.
They had sacrificed
A life where
They were treated like royalty.
An only son of
respected professors.
A daughter of a well known
Senior doctor,
The best of the best.
And for what?
Me.
ME.

So when I look forward,
I'm reminded of one more thing.
The opportunities
That lie in front of me.
A vast ocean of them,
Rippling with possibilities
Of how I could
Make my mark
Make a difference
Change the world.
And that's why I'm here,
So land of the free,
Home of the brave,
You may not be perfect
But I will forever be grateful
For what you've given me.
Next page