"parting is such sweet sarrow"
In the last days of someone’s life
I imagine
There is a peace that settles
A comfort in sleeping in your own bones and the skin that holds gravities hands
Moments pass without filling the space with anything
What are they going to miss?
What are they going to remember?
Who are they leaving behind?
I’m not dying but like a newborn I arrived in this country
Eyes shut, dumb, and unaware
Trying to get my hands on everything
Trying to stuff everything in mouth and chew on it for a while
Trying to take steps and cross the street
I’ve found no sympathy even in the cracks in the streets here
I bribe my myself into rhyming past times as an assignment
Out of the opinions I have formed here
I stand corrected yet corrupted
Crippled by the contradictions around me
The pictures of my old friends sit beside my bed
Heads turned in all different directions
Blindly looking, genuinely smiling
I’m not what I used to be to them
Its been 9 long months and 2 days since I’ve been home
My family looks different now
I have 9 beautiful sisters, 2 brothers, 8 wacky aunts, a funny uncle, and one very wise head of the family
These are the ones who have kept the bully that Bangalore can be sometimes away
Nobody can imitate our laughter about our past disasters
We have set impact into our jetpacks and now its time to speed away
I’m scared because every time I leave somewhere I realize how alone I am
That my life isn’t about who I cling to or fill my time with
These people I am seen with in the pictures are moments
Moments that don’t last beyond the photographs
But it’s about my adventure
Sometimes I get too caught up in waiting to get to where I am going
Looking up at the Universe
I remind myself my existence is a blink in space time
So I think about how I don’t want to spend it complaining
And soon it will be time to be old already
I am tired of making young mistakes, I say to my 20-year-old self
Trying to figure out my life instead of just living it
I feel like I am weeding through all of these possibilities
Will I grow to be a snapdragon snapping spitballed opinions
A wandering willow tree that blows whatever the direction the wind wants
Or a cactus, dangerous to aggravate, unreadable, and mysterious
But also something that sits and soaks up everything it can, refreshed by the rain
Will I grow enough to be as great as the great oak tree creating community councils
Or writing riffs about the wrath of our existence as a withering hibiscus
I am trying to grow strong enough not to be uprooted, trampled, or invaded anymore
And that’s what India has taught me
I imagine
There is a peace that settles
A comfort in sleeping in your own bones and the skin that holds gravities hands
Moments pass without filling the space with anything
What are they going to miss?
What are they going to remember?
Who are they leaving behind?
I’m not dying but like a newborn I arrived in this country
Eyes shut, dumb, and unaware
Trying to get my hands on everything
Trying to stuff everything in mouth and chew on it for a while
Trying to take steps and cross the street
I’ve found no sympathy even in the cracks in the streets here
I bribe my myself into rhyming past times as an assignment
Out of the opinions I have formed here
I stand corrected yet corrupted
Crippled by the contradictions around me
The pictures of my old friends sit beside my bed
Heads turned in all different directions
Blindly looking, genuinely smiling
I’m not what I used to be to them
Its been 9 long months and 2 days since I’ve been home
My family looks different now
I have 9 beautiful sisters, 2 brothers, 8 wacky aunts, a funny uncle, and one very wise head of the family
These are the ones who have kept the bully that Bangalore can be sometimes away
Nobody can imitate our laughter about our past disasters
We have set impact into our jetpacks and now its time to speed away
I’m scared because every time I leave somewhere I realize how alone I am
That my life isn’t about who I cling to or fill my time with
These people I am seen with in the pictures are moments
Moments that don’t last beyond the photographs
But it’s about my adventure
Sometimes I get too caught up in waiting to get to where I am going
Looking up at the Universe
I remind myself my existence is a blink in space time
So I think about how I don’t want to spend it complaining
And soon it will be time to be old already
I am tired of making young mistakes, I say to my 20-year-old self
Trying to figure out my life instead of just living it
I feel like I am weeding through all of these possibilities
Will I grow to be a snapdragon snapping spitballed opinions
A wandering willow tree that blows whatever the direction the wind wants
Or a cactus, dangerous to aggravate, unreadable, and mysterious
But also something that sits and soaks up everything it can, refreshed by the rain
Will I grow enough to be as great as the great oak tree creating community councils
Or writing riffs about the wrath of our existence as a withering hibiscus
I am trying to grow strong enough not to be uprooted, trampled, or invaded anymore
And that’s what India has taught me
