Madness to be in Love

I am the color of the blood of menstruation and of annihilated cities,

ma’s cries of agony that reverberate through the empty walls

of what I was supposed to call home and baba swirling the glass of whisky

while secretly reading a letter written by noor to him.I am the heirloom of a broken family,

the lump in my throat feels heavier than the empty plate in front of me

and more often than not this house has served as a testimony to my parent’s flaws,

I lost my religion.I have this terrible desire to seek love,

from relationships I shouldn’t have clung onto,

the horror of being left threatening to devour my existence,

I can’t help but wonder if we only hold on to love for the sake of being heartbroken?I remember too much, things that I shouldn’t have.

Maa asks me to let go and I can’t help but ask her,

where should I put it all down?

To know me is to memorize a labyrinth of longing,

I am a corpse of all the times someone mistook a funeral pyre for the warmth of hopeful sunshine.I ask death to make me a cup of tea and come to talk to me,

we’ll sit and discuss about how the sun too is a star

and I wonder if any of us have ever stopped to pray for the love it lost too?

~Akshita Chaudhuri
Kolkata, India

One Comment

  1. It touched my core and the way you have put it into words. Prove your demons that you have the power to head up high.