Where I sit, in a closet full of greys, which aren’t greys,
But colours of the rainbow, gleaming with a diffused glow,
I am not colour blind, but she was, the day I entered her closet,
But now she isn’t, for I have seen her feel the colours,
And sometimes you need not see them, to feel them,
You just have to wear them and see the world outside
through that gleaming diffused glow,
with a butterfly or two in your gut;
you’ll realize that the world is a closet too, that needs to be opened by the might of the strayed,
because the world is colour blind,
just like how she was when I entered her closet.
So, while I sit in here, I wonder what my role is, for I have built a castle in one corner,
just above the drawer where she hides her deepest secrets;
Maybe I am here to show her the light, so that the greys can become the colours they deserve to be
and then her closet can become the most colourful of them all,
and I can watch her be herself, not just in our closet,
but also to the world outside,
For I fell in love with that woman, who is not afraid to be herself, for she can carry any colour with poise, elegance and freedom.
That’s what the world should see and learn, from the most beautiful woman, that I share my closet with.

The prayer room, was empty,
except for pictures of her favourite gods and their idols,

The house had slept,
although her laughter, her voice,
could be heard from a distance,

The house didn’t smell of spices anymore,
And the aroma of her cooking which brought a smile to everyone walking in,
Had disappeared.

I wasn’t hungry any more.

I lit the lamp, and I turned around and called out her name,
Forgetting for a second that she is gone,
And my heart filled with a pain that felt like a knot,
weighing me down
For the house didn’t feel like a home
And her son didn’t feel like a child anymore

She’s no more,
The doctor said –
The day before she had cooked all my favourite things,
Few weeks ago,
She told me that the good times are about to begin,
Few months ago,
She told me that I dance well (although I didn’t)
Just few years ago,
She held me in her arms and ran an entire household, all by herself
Cooking, teaching, living life, the way it is meant to be lived,

Few seconds ago,
She was alive,

Now, she is no more.

And I ceased to be a child,
As I touched her cold feet,
And I told her,
I will live,
“I will live for you,
For I know you are in every breath I take,
Every drop of blood that run through my veins.
Every second that I live, will be for you, will be for your legacy”

And I will live life, just the way you did”
No more

Husband to a wife who has passed,
My father;
Just stood there, holding her cold hands.
He was praying for her soul,
Because that’s all he could do,

The sound of complicated instruments,
reverberated across the hall,
Through which I walked out,
A motherless child;
Because that’s all I could do

And as I did,
I thought of the pain she endured for me,
Third time lucky was unheard off,
But she took the risk and let god deal with the odds
And let the doctors lay the knife on her womb again
Here I am today, years later, alive and breathing, her youngest,
Walking away, wishing she could be my mother again.

Home is humane
much like a mother's love
that's omnipresent, caring and warm,
Much like her absence, is the house that is just
brick and mortar.
For in her absence,
the roof changes into dark clouds,
the floor cracks into an abyss,
shaking my hold on the earth,
to that of a child who is on his feet,
for the very first time,
Where is my home?
the space so familiar, but the feeling gone?
The child I am,
stood there waiting for a hand to hold his,
to show him the way.
but all I saw,
was brick and mortar.

In a world where the virtual self precedes over the actual,
the middle ground is where your darkest secrets rest,
Near the cortex or wherever your brain has that abyss,
is where you shed your insecure thoughts, your masks, and your Instagram filters,
and there you will find yourself all alone with your actual thoughts that don't fit in the virtual world,
because you are no longer special, no longer significant, no longer you,
and the only part of your existence that truly belongs to you is that reality.
So I am logging out
with the hope that I will come find you in your abyss,
with the hope that together we can find our analogue world,
where the sun rises in the east, sets in the west,
where the smell of the first rain, still brings a smile on your face,
where the wind and the tide, usher in good memories,
memories that we made,
memories that we lived,
memories that are etched in that middle ground,
the middle ground which once, was a happy place.

Let's talk mental health
Oh yes, I did say the word mental
not cool, I know
coz I am a man,
I am supposed to have it figured,
be it physical, metaphysical or otherwise,
I am not supposed to falter,
Coz that would be uncalled for,
to alter the course of life for  "man" kind
would mean I am  "out of order"
So when I walk into that cabin where the therapist is at
I know I need help, and I am just getting to that,
but the walk to the door is not that easy,
For I am a man,
I am invincible,
But now I am just invisible
Cause nobody can see through the thick skin they presume I've got
the six-pack that I am supposed to have,  ain't gonna cushion that punch,
I am not strong
I am sensitive,
I am breakable,
and I do cry.

"So how can I help" the therapist asked.

Where do I even begin mankind?