Your absence has gone through me like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with a color.

















Red...

Hand me a paddle,
because you're not in this boat alone.
Your sea was once beautiful and blue,
but now rages where darkness has grown.
May I recall to you the rainbow,
that will show above these waters of emotion.
God's promise of our salvation,
and that He will not let you drown in this ocean.

I dim the lights,
I sit in my bed, listening to the ac drone,
on and on and on.

I blink my tears into the corners of my mouth,
and then wipe em away, because its weird, right?
to eat your tears?

I think of you.
God, had I been made into a body that sees
a good thing.
God, if I had been made into a body, that is drawn to
something better
than what I've allowed.
I say things out loud.
Things I coat in sweetness,
because I love you, too, dude.
Just not in the same way, you do me.
And god, aren't we all looking for that one,
that does us?
And if I did you,
the way I am now.
You'd find the reasons why I shy,
why I know
unsatifactory, I promise.
You say you wont,
But god, thats no way to love.
You are my reason to flee
from the solitude that quite scares me
from the rubbers I use to numb me
to keep me good in bed,
but not quite good enough to get in their head
I avoid the competitive types
I like being wanted but I don't need to know
about the hurt
about who came first
I comprise the story, in my head
every day, and I know
that I'll never be enough
not cause' I didn't try.
But because I've never really wanted to.
Because I've never wanted to be enough

At the young age of three
My brother said to me
"I wish I got hit by a car"
My thoughts wandered far

Why would a child?
Have thoughts so vile?
I didn't comprehend
That this wasn't the end.

At the age of 14
I typed on a screen
"I want to jump off and die,
I'm ready to meet my demise"

I understood the pain
My brother held in his brain
No wonder life felt drab
When I couldn't even feel sad.

And yesterday, at 11 years
My youngest brother told me crying tears
"I want to jump off something tall
I want to die, I feel so small"

I hugged him tight
Kissed his cheek
Told him life, does seem real bleak

But these thoughts,
I've had them too
And your brother
And grandmother
And my mother
It runs in our blood
To feel so alone
But together we're strong
So please don't go.

The dandelions grow,
They blow with the wind.  

Spread across the thin grass,
With little green, and many grains of brown sand.

Later the seeds grow into more weeds.  If unattended they will ruin your deeds.

My Bella, My Bella

I've been through hell and back lately.  
I thought it'd be easy.
To leave,
I was deceived.

What more is there,
I glare and I glare.
Stare.
My eyes filled with flare.
Eye contact blind, inexistant.
Afraid of the consequences when
Its known it was all a lie.

The weeds spread.
As my negativity ascends,
The surface of my soul rots.
Impossibilities run through the mind.
Dreams of you and me,
Waking up,
Feelings furthest from relieved.
Heart hidden underneath my sleeves,
I've lost it.  
Abandoned, left to freeze.

Smiles grow painful.
Photographs record shameful agony. 

The liquid of your cheeks,
Unseen, unfelt.
Your happiness brings forth wander,
Yet it is not the place for thieves
To ponder of their lives refrained from stealing.

Your rose stolen,
Put in a vase filled with poison,
From red to white,
Pale in sight.
Expressions of sorrow despite
The sunlight,
Not a single lady bug would take
Flight and land even on its very might.
Who would blame it.  

The endless nights have
Turned into short term darkness,
For those who dream their
Nightmares while laying awake.

Only to see the blinding sunlight rise,
So close to their dialating pupils
And puffy cheek bones,
Enough to draw salt water from the sea.
Yet, it is
So far,
In the distance behind the mountains.
The sunlight once again escapes.

This life feels it will take
A lifetime to pass.

The mind of that girl is a pain sanctuary
whose aching decreases due to a world that's imaginary.

From home she goes out to get away,
and all those nights in stranges she relies.

The soft morning breeze
tenderly dries the tears in her cheeks,
and childishly it peeks
through her bloodshot eyes looking for a trace of peace.

Nobody could really tell
if she, bones and flesh, is still alive
or if she's just a wanderer ghost.
Probably the only one of her kind.

The dark circles under her eyes
are a proof of the restless crying nights.

The tangled auburn messed up hair
tells she didn't sleep at home, but no one cares.

Picking up flowers on the way back home,
humming songs that once made her feel whole.
She rests for a few hours and once awake she grabs a pen,
she writes down a poem before she gets drunk again.

Somehow she finds calm
in the simple things of life,
and she tries not to think
about the coldness in her eyes.

Barely getting through, day by day,
trying not to be absorbed by all the grey.

Amassing countless heartbeats
to the final point where life she quits.

Yesterday
Was in the ecstasy
Of realizing that
We were
Those two
On earth
Who liked bitter gourd curry
Cooked with coconut milk ….

Remember?
Think it was
In the sixth life.
We were
Two nascent bitter guards
On the pandal
Spread in the northern corner
Of the farmland
Belonging to a grandmother
In a village in Mississippi
Who used to attend to the orchards
Sitting in a wheelchair.

We had
Watched earth
And peeked
At the sky
Hanging from the same stalk
The scar left
From your tight clasp on my thigh
Scared
After spotting a double tailed pest
Is still there.

The pleasure of that pain
Makes me tearful now.

I am like the faces
In the house of deceased
Sobbing
At times  
Bursting into tears
The next moment
Holding back
After a while.

Sometimes
I am all the faces
In the house of the dead
Tears have
Nothing to do with them.

Sometimes
The wedding house
Will laugh and laugh
Till its cheeks hurt.

Just like you.

My dear bitter guard,
When will we
Go back to that
Pandal in Mississippi
Where we had pulsated
From a single stalk?

Aren’t we the ones
To offer obsequies
To that grandmother
Who looked after us
With pots
Of wholehearted love?



Translator - Shyma P


Shyma P : Works in Payyanur College, Payyanur. Translator and film critic. Has translated poems and articles in Malayalam Literary Survey, The Oxford India Anthology of Malayalam Dalit Literature, online magazines like Gulmohar, Readleaf Poetry as well as scripts and subtitles for short films.