Venomous Stars | A poem of belongingness | Deep Sojourns | Poetry narrat...

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Who Lasts Longer?

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I keep walking on fire! My soles, burning! As I bleed from my heart, and see my blood falling. Every drop tries to douse the fire extinguish it from flaring, and me from diminishing.   I do not lose my control, Neither my consciousness. I watch me bleed, and I watch me burn. And I tell myself To be brave, strong and resilient, “You cannot give up, You have got to fight There’s light on the other side”   The sky turns red with pain and I look it in the eye. I try hard not to blink So, if it were death Let it see in my eyes too, let it know I’m not scared.   I’ve made a fire in me, That which can never be put off. My eyes glittering bright, brighter than the simmering, the one beneath my feet. I take a sigh of relief, a nd a tear drop falls, straight onto the ground. And I hear it fizzle. Steam rises from that fall, as though whispering, “It’s over! You’ve reached the edge, Don’t stop or you star...
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Quite like Home!

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  I was about to take the last turn to my home after a brief walk to take some fresh morning sunshine. I noticed the little flowers that had fallen off on the left sidewalk from the tree last night and maybe a few previous nights. Still looking fresh, carrying the faint essence of their night duties. I picked up one, sized like a clove, hoping to smell the fragrance up close. It was very faint, obviously nothing compared with how it does in one of those large bunches up above. The flowers had already assured I was close, close to what I could call home for a while. There stood the tree with very small bunches, awaiting their full blooms. The buds were a testimony to that. I kept looking for a few more moments, analyzing how late they’ve bloomed. I wondered if the tree was blooming for the first time ever, because there it stood as tall as they grow. How come I’m standing there for the first time, feeling a narrow escape to heaven. The first time, my vision had to beat my olfactory ...
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Thundering Silence

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 The beauty goes unnoticed, of silence and of peace. I keep gulping the poison, of words I do not speak.   I witness the evil, I hear that too. And I unhear the shrieks and screams, of chaos within my soul.   I silence what is sacred, for the sake of survival. I silence what is venomous, for the sake of goodwill.   And I often battle with myself! Could a war be waged, or anger poured out, or burning tears assuaged? But then, I silence the chaos, the words too silenced. Neither an emotion is hurt, nor a soul avenged. And if silence is the sword, eyes and ears shall bleed The mercy of truth, shall the souls plead. VEDIKA
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