THE GARBAGE CAN

When did she allow herself to turn into a punching bag?
A willing dart-board,
A mass of flesh into which is showered punches,kicks,abuse,slaps and other slimy stuff.

When did she become Insignificant,
Unworthy,
Identity-less,
And Worthless.

When did she lose the minimum amount of self-respect needed to qualify as a human?
And inadvertently transform herself into a sub-human!

A garbage can.
Don't look into her now.
Don't open the lid.
(or if u do,do it at your own risk)
The garbage has long since decomposed.
Rotted into a nameless "stinking nauseating thing".

She waited for a knight in shining armour to empty her garbage.
To cleanse her
And stop the stink.
To make her fragrant
And human again.

To give her back her Self.

Her waiting has been in vain so far...(an eternal wait this is going to be)
The knights did her the favour of adding more to the filth...
The garbage has begun over-flowing,outgrowing the lid.

When will she realise that she has to empty the garbage herself?
She has to cleanse herself and become whole again.
She has to regain her Self.
But all on her own.
No crutches,no support.
She has only SHE for company.

Au Revoir...So Long

Love came into my life,
and sat down beside me with a heavy heart,
with tears streaming down her cheeks..

I held Love's hand.
There was nothing to be said.
Nothing that hadn't already been said.
Nothing that hadn't already been understood,grasped,known and felt.

We sat in silence,
Maybe for hours,
Maybe just for a few fleeting moments.

We watched the world go by in front of us.
The story of the world unfolding in endless repetition.
The rush-hour morning traffic,
The afternoon siesta,
The socialite evening parties,
And the lonely nights.

We watched it all..sitting together..side by side...holding hands.

Then Love looked at the clock.
Our hours together were over.
The clock had struck,literally.

The hour of separation...
Never to meet again.
But no tears now.

"So Long", said Love.
"So Long", said I.

A BETRAYAL ON THE INFINITE EXPANSE OF TIME

Do you know how it feels like to be betrayed by one's own inner spirit...
the very spirit which lends voice to the soul and to the self?

Do you know how that can feel?

That moment of betrayal refuses to let go of me...or is it that I refuse to let go of that moment?
Why am I so inextricably bound to that moment like a mother is bound to her only child?
Why can't I break free of the endless ropes that tie me that moment?
Why can't I free my soul!

This dark fog that has descended over my Being..why won't it lift up?
Why won't it clear up to let in the warmth of sunshine or the calmness of moonshine?

Why can't my spirit regain its chutzpah?

These questions echo endlessly within me because
I am my own betrayer... I cannot point a blaming finger outwards..
The blaming finger points towards my own self...

"Time heals all wounds"..."Time and tide wait for none"..
All my hopes of breaking free rest on the ever dependable companion Time...
Time never betrayed any soul till date.