Let us leave the hand of misery,
and pledge to never gloat in self-pity.
Life is tough, its hard,
but lets just never judge.
We all are victims of both hate and lust.
And this is life nothing more that that,
it is stiff for those who always doubt.
Whatever happens, happens….
So why fret let us love and hold
hands of those who are left behind.
Smile and for once just be kind.
The mind is it’s own place,
and itself
Can make a heaven of hell,
a hell of heaven.
_John Milton, Paradise Lost
There is no individual as far as I can see who has not been either abused or inadvertently part of abusing someone. Someone brilliantly remarked in life you are abused by some and you abuse some. I don’t know whether, I agree with the statement or not , but I do feel we all need to develop a thick rhino skin to be able to withstand the conniving abuse mechanisms of certain people unfortunately of few who are closely related.
In couples very often children are used as a ploy to threaten each other. I’ve been in a position several times where I’ve been threatened that my daughter will be taken away if I try to leave. Earlier out of fear very often I’ll give in due to fear of being separated from my child but lately I’ve decided not to let the fear paralyze me and allow things to unfold. I guess once bullies and abusers are shown that you don’t fear the consequences, it breaks the whole pattern of abuse. What do you 🤔 think??
As they say there is a bigger victory awaiting after fear… . It’s disheartening that the weakest individuals among choose such mechanisms to intimidate and weaken the spirits of others. Some of us give in thinking that may be this is the end and get caught up in vicious cycle of abuse mechanism. If you feel you’ve been in similar pattern of abuse, I feel you need to first get rid of the debilitating fear and seek help, I’m sure it’s available or talk to near and dear ones.
Most importantly break the pattern of your own fear and anxiety!
Disguised in the
hollow curves of
your eloquent words,
do I hear a vicious
hissing ; whispers of
a conniving heart?
Why do I visualize
a serpentine on the rock?
I’m not beguiled by
your deceptive talks.
By the tinkering of your
silver coins.
For I’ve on my hump back
burden of enough winters
to mark a
Devil in a sea of Men.
The doe-eyed mercy
paid a visit last night,
the heavenly, at times
a wretched appearance
of bleak pathos…
It coiled round and
round my sunken heart
hissing gradually stealthily
like giant headless
serpents seeking forgiveness
of misdeed long done
an act went wrong
decades back…
A deserving reparation
by throttling my fragile
heart to suck out all
the clemencies I must
offer, forgiveness I must
bid, as the porous
vapors of pity rose
from the sinful flesh
of burning carnal desires
morphing into the
tears of empathy
cascading on my hollow
cheeks pouring from
the doe-eyed mercy
(Painting: Heer Ranjha, Shobha Singh)
Between insatiable expectations
and the limited realities
lingers harsh disappointments
a man becomes a man when
he seeks solace in disappointments
fathom his limited realities
while treasuring the insatiable
expectations , for triumph of a man
lies in dreaming and failing.
One fine day, the prophet of love summoned his four apostles to bring forth,
the most lovable soul, the emissaries laughed for bestowing upon the task so
basal” how difficult it would be?” Grinned the one with an air of disdain but
with the task in hand and the urgency of the prophet, the four proponents glided
in opposite directions to search for the soul loveliest of all!
First encountered a lover embracing his beloved vowing to lay his humble life
for love, the apostle heavy-hearted flew back after making a note, the second
apostle came upon a man of who held an expensive banquet in the name of immortal
love, having made a note too he soared back on his winged clouds to the prophet.
The third prophet had a rare rendezvous with a blind poet, writing love ballads on
dry leaves, the apostle had tears in his eyes and feeling assured he met the most
lovable soul in the world, went back to the prophet. The last apostle wandering whole
day in vain discovered a farmer delicately burying a little pomegranate in moist soil
Bewildered for the apostle has never seen such sight went close and heard “my poor
baby pomegranate couldn’t breathe onslaught of storm anymore,” the apostle went
back to prophet disappointed for not meeting the lovable soul he bet. Each emissary
narrated shares of their soul’s glory, after a patient hearing, the prophet proclaimed
the humble farmer burying his pomegranate fruit of having the soul loveliest of all!
Love is in the sigh of an aching lover
It is at the feet of an aging mother
Love is in the petals of a beautiful rose,
It is in the farewell of a soldier who goes
Love is in the act of a divine consummation
It is in a pleasure of an orgasmic elation
Love is in first showers of awaited rains
It is never done for any mundane gains
Love is in everything that God reserve
It is what you and me rightfully deserve
Our lives are as different as alike,
Some days you are a step ahead and
I am a step behind while on some days
I am a step ahead and you a step behind.
For our lives are as different as alike.
I may not be the exquisite rose of your French orchids,
or the fragrant Jasmine of your manicured lawns.
A wildflower of some unknown species, yes I am of a wild tribe!
The type that grows on the sides of your very dirty roads and
muddy paths, the kind whose seeds are never sowed
and fruits shall never be reaped.
Do you know that in my womb, I too carry a fragrance?
A pungent smell which never made it to the bottle of any perfume.
No lover ever came knocking on my humble door. No never!
Such abhorrent is my appearance that my beauty is never a joy to any.
My petals are never given a chance to kneel at the altar of any shrine,
for the pundits prophesied, it would have been blasphemy of some kind!
But I continued to sway when the cold winds would blow and
bloom whenever the benevolent Sun would shine.
I flourished, even when the florists at my site continued to whine
I thrived when the rains were scarce at an hour when suddenly the eclipse
took over all the Suns, and the Moon simply refused to show up.
So you ask me why? For I possess a zeal, a yearning to live, so strong that even
when I am trampled on your dirty roads, I never cease to grow….
and continue to grow and like a phoenix rise from the ashes.
I am a wildflower, the kind that grows on the sides of muddy paths.
