Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.

She was once a spirited soul
Trekking along all alone,
Many she crossed paths with;
Some left an impression on her
Some good some bad;
But no one stayed for long
But one friend or two,
Yet none of those that came and went
That walked away; crawled away
Or were kicked away,
Left without a searing pain in their body,
They felt the suffering of her loss
They would never forget this regret,
One day she found another
Who could not be chained down;
Who felt the ties but fought them;
Until even he fell but only on one knee,
He would walk alongside but not with her,
Because under her strong independence
Laid within a submissive acquiescence,
A heart longing to belong; and there was one
Who had the only key to her beating love,
And as she surrendered herself to him
The collector had finally been collected...
© okpoet

The Wait:
don’t look for love in public spaces
love is shy always
hesitating she comes with flowing grace
to the patient lover
in the end all that is needed
is to look into the mirror –
in the reflection of your eyes
you’ll find her!

The First Smile:
Oh! Say not that this world is mean
do not turn your face away from me!
the lack of a smile in return
was not intended to spurn
but your smile left me so captivated
so caught up and fascinated,
that even as my heart somersaulted,
my lips forgot to smile!

Being Together:
the mist hides my secrets,
of it are born my desires
the arc of the moon expands to contain
every wish of this lovesick heart
the morning but amplifies this-
the sweetness of the night’s embrace
on sleepless pyres were burnt our passions
on winter’s breath our dreams impaled!

Inseparability:*
Love isn’t Love
until one sees
that I am You
and You are Me
so where lies the question
of coming and going
wherever you are
there I shall be!

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

You only live once...
More commenly known as YOLO
God, I'm such a nerd...Did I actually just say that?
...well that's new...

Anyways...
Though the song actually doesn't serve this message much good, (but has the capacity to get stuck in my head ALL THE TIME) this message is quite true.

I've been spending far too much time moping around about how my dreams never come true and a bunch of **** that means the world to me now and won't matter later....

I know this isn't poetry, but I wanted to get this out and write something that felt personal... Something that felt like me talking...almost...

So I realized that we really do only live once (duh) and that I don't want to follow the standard little path we're all started on and brainwashed into thinking  leads to success. I don't want to have a ton of money but hate what I do. Really, I'd rather just be happy.

When I'm older, I want to look back at my life and be proud of myself. I want to look back and think that I lived a happy life.

So I know I'm young. I know that 20 years from now I won't remember the cold winter night at 2:17 am that I wrote this. I won't remember why I had a crush on that one boy in 8th grade.

But, I will remember being happy, or more commenly unhappy and I don't like being unhappy, no one does.

Something's wrong and I think it's time to stop acting like it's not.

So yeah, I'm young. I've got a long road behind me and an even longer one ahead. I've got a lot of choices and mistakes to make. I've got a lot of things to fix.

I've got a pile of homework to catch up on, and a couple thousand ideas to write down.

It used to be when I grow up, I want to be a doctor.
An astronaut.
A figure skater.
A singer,
A gymnast,
A doctor,
President,
And so on,
But at this point, I want to be happy.

Such a lovely ring, she said.
It even looks good on my ugly hands.
As if those hands were lacking.
As if those hands –
hard working hands –
Bore no beauty of their own.

My mother’s hands,
That held the soap
To scrub my baby toes;
Whose hands were there
To show me how
To blot my runny nose.

Those hands that later
held my hands
And patiently did teach me
How to tie my shoes -
Then held them once again
To coax and guide my own
To write my cursive name
Until the time when I alone
Could do the very same.

My mother’s hands,
That fed me,
And tucked me in at night;
Who touched my fevered brow
And soothed away my fright.

My mother’s hands,
That all my life
Gave comfort, care and hope.
And when my children came to be,
I watched my mother’s hands -
a new grandmother’s hands -
Touch my children, tenderly.

My mother’s hands,
Yes, weathered by their toil,
The fingers wide,
And aged with years –
and just like her,
Still sure and strong
Yet gentle as they ever were.

My mother’s hands –
She looks, and says they’re ugly
But I don’t know what to say.
For when I see
My mother’s hands
It’s the beauty of
The love they gave,
Assuring strength
And constant grace
All held within
My mother’s hands.

Lin Cava©