Traditions suffocate, When I grow old I will bury my family tree In a land so deep that it never out-grows another Dreamer, That it never stirs another riot inside a heart
Sometimes you understand too much, The flower of which blooms into expectations- Tonight I'll celebrate my Dreams And bathe in the blood rushing through my temples; I'll mouth the words that make me a sinner I'll shake these graves with my ribs
There is a poem that spits on my last name But I'm a spider knitting my own web, So my spit is just another beginning to a Dream- Condemned by this godforsaken family.
A big, classic ‘FUCK YOU’ to obligations and traditions just because the people around you are FAMILY.
I’ve never really let the concept of family seep into my head. However, my parents keep nagging me to acknowledge these people. I mean, I don’t mind it BUT when it comes to my comfort level, anxiety issues and social skills, I’m a big disappointment according to them, who is always busy on her phone. I KNOW for a fact that I’ve changed and honestly speaking, I’ve my own days and some times, I’m not in the right set of mind to strike up conversations or participate in them. I don’t even want to be left alone for a whole day but I would appreciate a couple peaceful hours to myself.
Why are half the concepts about families forced on a person for petty reasons like: you share the same blood or for something as silly as, they’re your family?
Why do I’ve to fucking put my anxiety problems aside just for people who barely remember the day I was born? Or have issues with how I colour my hair?
My family is toxic and there’s selective toxicity hurled at me because of various reasons. One of them being, that I dream with the intent of making them my reality. I believe in actions more than words, religion or holy anecdotes. I believe in life and what I make of it, more than what came before me.
My family is only my parents and I really wish they’d respect my choices too. Or at least give me the required time to be myself rather than having me fake shit instead of enjoying the moment like they want me to but, here’s the catch: you can’t expect your children to enjoy the moment according to your rules, let them breathe first.
Here is a sight that would not lose you amidst a crowded loneliness
Because it sees you, beyond the clouds covering your haunted visage
It’s the beating of a heart going berserk
Each minute is a dreadful wailing of an infant dragging its frail body as fast as it can
Each second is a woman screaming at her face in the mirror, she doesn’t recognise the other one – why is she disappearing?
I want to see, I thought I did but it was only wishful thinking
I only sought your pain to dab my ink in something different, thinking that it would help me make a difference –
And now my pages have become tales of darkness that had nothing to do with me
My vision has become the periphery to a loneliness I thought I could erase,
Because pain comes with a filthy shell that only morphs into an addiction upon peeling through the layers;
Thus, I erase my words to make space for your yours – I ignite my dark nights to revel in yours.
Pain makes for the most beautiful conversations, and even more meaningful connections – like a poem that writes itself without even needing your consent, your voice or your ink. It simply breathes in its way, in its own space.
We share the sins that bind us. The tip of my tongue is the sun melting in your eyes. You see it clearly, you let it burn your throat while coughing lava on the plain white walls.
The water flows upward, the rains have been blossoming in the Heavens this season. My hands remember your touch, my ink retraces your sighs. Each letter encompasses the soul of your essence.
My tears recite your name. Over and over again, it’s like a rhythm that sounds anew each time it licks my ears. I want this song to remember us, to remember the way these sins bind us.
The way lover’s love, and never stop. I want my existence to reverberate yours, I want my heart to kiss your palms – and stay within, enclosed in the flesh that beats like home.
We share the sins that bind us, only to taste the glory of vulnerability, truth and discomfort – only to love a little longer than forever, a little faster than time.
Only to love a little larger than the space; only to love like a Prayer made in piety – to love like a poem that lives in our eyes, lips and hands.
It lives in the letters of our bodies, it grows in the shadow of our heat.
It’s insanity – to be so full of life/ blueberry sighs/ burning glass frames/ my image is complete/ your lullaby in my lap/ our home – a breathing cloud of ashes that outshine rainbows, a giggle of an orange peel/ bittersweet pages/ all written in consonance with hope/ heaven/ relief.
He sows, He reaps – He brushes past the instances of rolling buds and autumn heaps.
The misaligned creepers are set in line with the constellations and somehow, the ephemeral space makes it hard for them to breathe.
The Judgement day arrives in a pocketful of systematic hate until the garden becomes a miserable palace of weed.
He still sows – but there is no one to reap.
There are poets, here and there but He has built a wall of thorns that renders the seekers blind. Once their eyes start to bleed, the taste of their blood halts their spirit – it engulfs the hope of reaping the garden of faith.
I’ve been standing on the edge of this palace, they say yellow makes them happy but this palace of weed suffocates me – it also clings to my lungs, and calls itself my ‘Home’.
I lunge forward to blind myself, I really do but every single time I miss by a fraction of a sentence, a yawning poem stretching between my toes.
He sows – that awakened poem, that distracting sentence, that hopeful lunge / The Gardner has a season for every name, I wonder what mine is.
Rains/ a blackened sigh/ the ephemeral space/ the broken stars/ the melting clouds/ a stutter between the sunrise and the sunset – I’m an anomaly without a name.
I see, the uprooted garden and the enormous space. I breathe for the first time because I believe what I see. I believe what I seek.
The Gardner – that made me, you and the bellowing universe amidst a poetry of Creation, a scream of magnificence.
-Nameera Anjum Khan.
This poem takes inspiration from religion, particularly the depiction of God in the movie ‘The Shack’ which provides a brilliant and an optimistic insight into what kind of entity God really is. It also sheds light on how humans sometimes become the judge of events that they truly don’t understand. We become hopeless at the immediate sight of a bad circumstance, never once trying to grasp the meaning of divinity behind things.
There are tides in my tongue that erase your name every time I trace it on the corners of my mouth
I create a vigour in my ribs that swirls in the tangerine buds of the laughing skies
My paper feet are cut in places that can never learn to sleep,
I eat this canvas until I’m the piece of art
But I’m deranged in places that don’t exist loud enough
Bit by bit
Until the flesh is a bare secret-
It’s your story but you keep peeling it away,
Look at you now – a subsumed flame in a nest of rage, a holy prayer covered in filth and harbouring a look that says more than actions do;
You’re a ship in the sky, sailing away the gravity in hopes of falling on the ground.
You never do.
-Nameera Anjum Khan
Before this day ends, I decided to pen down a muse which was quite spontaneous, which speaks for itself I suppose :3
There was a potpourri of thoughts behind this one but the most particular one was – the description of a toxic relationship and the fear of conformity to truth. Sometimes, people lock themselves up in a cage because they fear getting hurt and in the process, they end up hurting others. It’s an interesting paradox to reflect upon but going through it is an entirely different phase.
Conclusively, I’d like to add that vulnerability is a very precious thing and if someone decides to take off their mask in front of you, you’re not under an obligation to reciprocate the same. You must take your time but through means that don’t end up hurting others.
My senses are always in consonance with the way time flicks my insides. A heavy summer crucifies my tongue inside a nightmare that I keep wanting more and more. They say pain is an addiction and this day has been everything but that – an addiction sucking me knee-deep. It unfurls on my neck like a morning breath rising anew, like the birds fluttering inside a jar of mishaps. You shake it, until there are enough cracks for you to get in – enough space for your word to mingle with mine.
I think of all the pages dying every night in the grave of your spit. The way this world wraps itself under your skin and inside my fingernails – is a fable residing in the very vacancies of our hearts. Do you know about a ‘Wanting’ that ‘Needs’? It often dawns upon me when your scent travels down my spine. Chills.
This heavy summer is but a monsoon under my eyelids, stretching beyond mortal lines. I want to make the most of it with a hand that can trace all these poems and own them, need them. Need me.
You see, the only way I could speak was through a language I hadn’t yet deciphered
My days went on, in a shell of thoughts
When out there, was an ocean waiting to devour me
People often stood long enough by the pole – long enough to let the streetlight lick their sins away
Until one of them untied me accidentally
And I traversed within after he ran away, so deep within that I didn’t even know that there was a path underneath my feet
People often talk about the ground slipping from under their feet, but have you ever felt it slipping right back?
And so did the words itching the insides of my body
And the poems begging to crawl into the ocean
And so, I wrote – never stopping once, never looking back at the pole and those delicate strings of a self-made prison;
I took the path not meant for me, but the one I had been meaning to take anyway.
-Nameera Anjum Khan
Day 2 prompt was inspired by the famous and much loved compose by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken. It took me back to a time when I was still a novice at writing and didn’t exactly measure its importance in my life. Years later, I can proudly say that the person I am today is because of the choices I made, despite the paths that lay ahead of me.
I’ve been confused and lonely at times, but I always made sure that whatever it is that I do, my heart and my soul is in agreement at the end of the day.
Following your heart is easier said than done, especially in a world that’s always out there to complicate things.