I fear,

I fear I won’t live again,
I fear death,
I fear I may wake up in the hospital tomorrow
complaining about migraine which maybe actually turn out to be tumor –
a beautifully malignant one.
I fear cancer
because cancer runs in my family.
I fear cardiovascular disease
because that runs in my family too.
I think I also fear every other kind of sickness,
irrespective of how related they are to me by blood,
for who knows what’s coming for ya?
I fear pain,
For I have witnessed it in action too closely;
Most of it has been forgotten
but the handful of remnants are enough to haunt me for the rest of my life.
I fear grief,
I can’t even think of it,
I don’t want to think of it,
I have been his neighbour, maybe his roommate, may have been him himself,
Anyway, now I want to stay the fuck away.

I fear love,
I fear people might disappoint,
Someone might wound my heart,
And what if it’s never healed again?
I fear dreams,
Often I dread that they are delusions,
Often I dread that I don’t love them enough,
Often I dread that I am running out of belief.
I fear future,
For there are so many things that I don’t know.
I fear past,
For there are so many things that I don’t know.
I fear present,
For there are so many things that I don’t know.
I fear hope,
For I fear failure,
I fear happiness,
For I fear success.
I fear my purpose,
Or lack of purpose,
I fear I may be meaningless after all.
And I fear that I fear too much.

I want to freeze
in this moment,
ice cold,
unblinking,
motionless.
Maybe I should be a tree,
I want to be a tree,
Bloom in various hues, through various seasons,
Overhear the conversations between birds and squirrels,
Dance in rain,
And bath in the sun,
Have people marvel at me,
Have people love me,
Have people chop me down.

I think I fear end,
I know I fear end,
And if this is the end –
I fear I just have to deal with it.

*

 

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When you died and I seem to know you now

It’s puzzling to some extent to accept that I am this agitated by you. I can’t explain it because truth be told, I don’t really know you. So, the fact that you decided to elope with that beautiful handsome young man – death – shouldn’t be bothering me at all. Come on!  Someone somewhere is talking to his daughter for the last time. I can’t grieve over that. Someone somewhere is aiming his gun to kill the man he has been paid to kill. I can’t grieve over that. Someone somewhere knows finally that the chemotherapy didn’t work on her after all. I can’t grieve over her. Someone somewhere is closing her eyes to a blissful dream that she knows will never end. I can’t grieve over her.

And I don’t. I simply don’t have such emotional stamina.

But being strangers, in our case, doesn’t help. Don’t ask me why, I am not good with explanations. Just a while ago, you were breathing and you didn’t matter. Ironically now you lay so still, your eyes closed, your blood frozen – a decaying servant to gravity now, not your heart and I can’t stop thinking about you. Your death is baffling. Your could-have-been life brings those tears back again that I just wiped a few seconds ago. Maybe you are at a better place now – where people don’t get sick, where people have meaning, where they don’t expect, where they accept,  where they don’t deny, where they embrace, where there is hope, where there is joy, where there is life that truly is worth living. Maybe you are at that place. So, maybe I need not even be sad for you.

But what about the people you have left behind? People, whose lives you touched, whose lives which once were intricately weaved with yours but now are just some haphazardly tangled lumps of threads. What about your memories that are going to come back again and again at utterly random moments and haunt them? What about those things – your books, your pillow, your clothes that are going to lay there expecting you to touch them one more time and will never be touched by anyone else without the stab of your memories? I am sad for the circle you have drawn which can’t ever be broken or bended back into a straight line.

Maybe your absence will be a new doleful inspiration. Maybe your absence will grudgingly bring new possibilities. Maybe you are hopeful it might turn out that way eventually – all forgotten, forgiven – with a better beginning, with a better ending but there always be this dream, this never ending dream, cropping like weeds in an otherwise well maintained garden, a faint possibility, a faint projection of a future – that could have been led with you – what would that have been like?

And no matter how much you try to, you can’t save us from that. You can’t take away this pain. We have earned it. We might in a spur of rageful moment blame it on you. But we would never mean it. It was never your fault after all. We will blame it on gods because in the end we need someone to share the unbearable pain of not being able to save you.

And even then, you and the gods can’t stop us from wondering how come you are not here! You were there just a moment ago; breathing, existing, living, loving and now you are not. How come? How will you ever make us truly believe that you will never come back? You will. Won’t you?

The Orange Sky

Time has come and the time has gone,
Another sun will rise with another dawn,
All I have now are the traces of the missing star,
An unknowingly discontented heart or an unacknowledged scar,
Oh! If I could just know the reason why or just the meaning of I,
As if listening, “Why bother?” whispers the lovely orange sky.
 
So, maybe I am laughing I cannot really see,
Or maybe it’s alright, I cannot really feel,
Anyhow I look forward to another misplaced sun,
Another beautiful day and another misleading run,
Maybe the night shall make me tough, and hope will keep me high,
And then, as if listening, “Why bother?” whispers the lovely orange sky.
 
So now I finally listen, I melt into the beautiful hues,
Lost or Found? I don’t really have many clues,
Few tears escape my eyes as if they have committed treason,
Is it the dying day or the dream? I don’t really know the reason.
Few more fall as the colors fade and as the last traces of light die,
And then, as if listening,” Why bother?” whispers the lovely orange sky.