by Bhargavi Balachandran
[box]When a relationship breaks and hope is born, it’s a sign of good times. Here is a poem by Bhargavi Balachandran. In the ending of a relationship, the protagonist discovers her personal rainbow – a new hope. Read on.[/box]My voice is black with despair
sooty, oily, charcoal black.
The thoughts just won’t stop crawling,
ventricle to ventricle,
slow and agonizing as it wreaks damage.
Spare my heart and take my brain instead, I cry.
The blood red tendril of my cry takes his breath away;
away from hope, and my arms.
What will you do without me? , he jeers.
A yellowish green jeer, I think with a pang.
I’ll bang my pots and pans in the kitchen, as usual, I retort;
a kitchen that will get along fine without you.
And soon, there will be rasgollas on my table,
Champagne in my flute,
Cheer in my bosom and spring in my step.
So long, my friend, I gasp.
He walks away.
To her.
And doesn’t turn back.
Gone.
Lost .
Forever.
My breathing is shallow, an ashen grey.
The pain courts my senses, ebbing out of every ganglion.
Sleep takes me on, the foster-mother that I crave for.
Waves of exhaustion maroon me on an island,
dreams float like happy, whispy clouds.
The morning breeze tousles my hair playfully,
the bird sings from its caged home,
filling me with strength I never knew I possessed.
Wake up dear, don’t put your life on hold;
time to move on my lamb, she says,
My momma.
Sunny eggs, apples, and a strong brew for my child, she coos.
Everything heals with time.
Even broken, bleeding, blue hearts.
As I gobble up the goodies,
I tell myself soon there will be rasgollas,
in my kitchen. Soon.
For, the phoenix shall rise from its ashes;
my heart croons in all the colors of VIBGYOR,
thank you, my personal rainbow, I mumble.
Thank you for this life and the box,
of delightful possibilities in front of me.
Pic : mikebaird – http://www.flickr.com/photos/mikebaird/
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