It’s Been A Beautiful Fight
2019
Three years gone.
It has been a fight; i just don’t know whether it is beautiful or not.
Time doesn’t make it any easier. It is but a cruel reminder of oblivion. Try as I might i cannot hold on to memory that is thinner than a wisp of smoke.
I don’t remember what your skin felt like. I cannot recall the sound of your voice and I am still unable to wrap my head around the fact that I haven’t heard your voice in three long years. (But I am indeed thankful that you were spared the sight of broken bones and hospital visits).
There will always be questions. Questions I might spend lifetimes trying to find answers to. Questions that get lighter with the years. The hurt does not decrease. The body just grows accustomed to it. The mind tries to fathom and the heart simply weeps.
People say we are allotted only a certain amount of tears for every person in every lifetime- but tears fall short, eyes run dry, and nothing does justice.
It is indeed true you can never love someone as much as you miss them.
It’s not a fight anymore. It’s war. It is bittersweet, and perhaps in all its brokenness- still is beautiful.
July 2019
2018
It’s been a long time now, and I have new furniture, new wine glasses that I will never use, and a lot of loneliness.
And there’s one too many questions.
I still question the Gods above and below about their divine plan.
What about the fairness of it all? What flaw does a child’s karmic cycle have, to be punished this way?
Heavens’ may have shattered and stars might have wept but only for the day. The universe continues to be in cosmic motion, maintaining their planetary juggernaut.
I had begged the planets to let you stay.
I had begged the roads for answers.
I had begged the flowers to bloom.
I have been fixing the compass bit by bit now, almost aligning it; but I don’t know the direction it points me to. Some nights it spins endlessly. Some days it lies still.
Picking up threads of an old life perhaps cannot be done, but I’ve been adding to the tapestry, weave after weave with all that I can find.
It’s tiring. To not be perfect, but be full. How does one be so wholesome to fill in the space of people like you? It’s a struggle to emanate an aura that reaches every last crevice of my sanctuary.
Breathing is easier now.
The silence it still deafening. The sound of the conch doesn’t echo anymore. I may be able to breathe, but it’s not enough to make the air reverberate with the positivity that you could.
But I am breathing now.
2017
And tonight I accept that my battle wounds need healing, and that I need rest. That the pain is real and it needs to be felt. For tonight I acknowledge that my soul does feel broken, and tonight I know my tears don't make me less of a woman. I've been bleeding within my bones with grief that I can't see and I'm bleeding underneath my skin with sorrows I can't reap. For tonight I accept that the threads of an old life are gone; and I understand that it hurts, come every dawn. Tonight I give myself the time to finally weep. I know that forever can go by in the blink of an eye; but the sun will keep gliding and the moon will pass by. Tonight I give myself the time to finally breathe. I understand that sometimes a compass can be wrong and I know that sometimes you have to hold on to an invisible song. For tonight I accept that I am in pain and I am grieving. And tonight I acknowledge the pain of you leaving. And tonight I know that oblivion is real; and maybe tonight I might begin to heal. It's been a beautiful fight. It still is.