#4 How can I ever do this....

"For nothing now can ever come to any good"

From inside the gremlin screamed 

"100 poems in one frigging year,

Now that's a ridiculous dream. 

In between all those meetings and work

Sandwiched by long commutes each day 

The countless chores, the endless roles, 

Writing poems is a dumb pursuit I say."

I sat quite still, my mind seemingly feeling 

what the gremlin says is true 

100 poems is an impossible target when there's limited Poetry inside you. 

Maybe I did set my aims too high

Maybe the ask of the last prompt was too tall 

How do I create something for the last line of a poem I read 

When I don't read much poetry at all!

So I sat quite blank with the gremlin's rant, 

Not knowing whether to choose relief or cry 

Thinking there is no point really 

When even the deadline has gone by

And with reaching passing hour, 

Even as my self-doubt grew, 

Over the gremlin's rant,  another voice whispered  

"Maybe, just maybe - that's not true"

(Line from WH Auden's Funeral blues")

#3: To my grieving friend

I promise 

That when you finally look up

From the depths of your grief

To open the doors that

You've shut yourself behind

I'll be on the other side

To greet you with a large latte 

And an even larger hug. 

Daring you to step out 

Into all the love you've be missing

In those moments I'd been wishing 

That once, just once you'd let me in 

And I'll sit down besides you 

Listening to every story, every memory you hold

Smiling each time you tear up

Crying each time you smile

So you remember the many colours hidden in  those memories

That you have so blindly been sorting as black or white. 

And in the dark of the night 

When you finally breathe in the light 

into your body emptied of all that grief, 

I'll stand right beside you  as you gently drop those stories 

Along with the unanswered questions  the loneliness, the regret, 

into the burning fire 

And with you, hope that the smoke rising heavenwards

Tells her how much she is remembered. 

And even as we wipe away the tears,  

I will draw you a path with the ashes left behind,

Back to everyone and everything in life 

that is worth smiling for. 

And though my words don't reach you

As you sit shoulders slumped with grief 

behind those tightly shut doors. 

Right on the other side 

With a large latte 

and an even larger hug, 

I'll be waiting.

I promise. 

#2: What the eye cannot sense

The darkness that engulfs me
Seems nothing but an extension
of the darkness that fills me from within
And today has oozed out
of every crevice, every pore
and threatens to swallow me whole.

I relied on my sight for everything.
Now how am I to navigate these paths
strewn with disappointments of my yesterday
and doubts for the new tomorrow?

And even as I stumble long
not just beaten and brusied
but also scared and confused,
I can hear
the courage in my questions,
the tinkle in my talk,
the hope in my songs
urging me to walk along.

And I can taste
the saltiness of my sweat
the sourness of my defeats
the sweetness in letting go
of my ideals of what life should be
and instead, nibble on what is.

And as you reach out to hold my hand,
I feel the solidness of your beliefs,
the fragility of self doubt,
the roughness of your dreams
as you choose to walk right beside me.

And as the breath fills my lungs
I smell the ashes of yesterday gone by,
the freshness of tomorrow that will be,
and though my sight be gone, for now,
the sounds, the tastes, the touch, the smells
Seem to shine a light on the darkness within. 

#1: What my mirror speaks to me

My love, my darling, my precious one,
so lovely to see you today.
Instead of regular dash of the eyeliner,
before you go off your way,
Do stop, just for today,
and let your eyes, your mind , your heart
take in fully what i show.
For they say a mirror reflects back reality
That's such a laugh, you surely know!

For on days this very You
stood right here before me
and each time, your eyes
Seemed to see a different reality.
Some days too fat, some days just right
Some days a smile that radiated such light.
And some days, cloaked in such darkness
when either you couldn't even bear to look me in the eye,
or stared longer than usual wishing for connection.

Each day you stood right before me in,
what seems to be, your body just the same,
I, in turn, have reflected back at you each day
This body, those eyes with a different name:
A hopeful warrior
An angry feminist
A caring friend
An envious foe
A confused mom
A sexy lover
An optimistic poet
And many more!

So today as you pause a little bit longer,
Looking right into me
I stand here to to gently remind you:
Reality is just another illusion you see.