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Thursday, November 12, 2009

Cabin 30B

"I do not like hospitals" .... this is a bit like saying "I do not like a friggin' boil on my ass" .... but very honestly... there is something in those long corridors and the swathes of whiteness which creeps me out. I am hardly the first to express discomfort at an encounter with mortality, and I'm sure I won't be the last.... the thing is, when you're 20, you have a very well-constructed veneer of invincibility around you..... and when the illusion shatters from time to time.... well, confrontation can be... tricky, if you get my drift. The past month, in a set of weird coincidences, four of my close friends had to visit the horror house for myriad accidents and illnesses, and I found myself waiting in those long corridors far too many times for my liking.

"Cabin 30-B"

What do you do when the talk dries up?
When all you're left with is silence,
The stillness in white, and before you
The devouring endless night?

How do you define loss?
Would it be better if she were snatched from you,
Suddenly, and with an iron fist
The matter settled before you resist?

"We can manage her pain" , they say
As if it were a simple chore,
A minor inconvenience, a sleight-of-hand
And all the while, the hours slip by like sand.

You nod your head, as if it were a trifle
The choking lump which you tried to stifle,
In your throat, growing, rising
To the surface, threatening to give way.

Sudden surge of faith, you pray
For strength, and the will to stay
By her side, and be the one
You ought to be.

Little did you know, 'tis all a haze,
You fooled no one with your show-and-tell
And least of all her, a simple gaze
Did crack the facade, how the mighty fell!

She looks at you with a reassuring smile
And takes your hand, "It's okay, you know,
To be afraid, to show your fear
It's a phony man, who knows not a tear.

The gods themselves do envy us
And play their games, so mischievous
For we, with our wondrous fragility
Outshine their immortal misery.

Our love does shine in a brighter light
And these fleeting moments which are given us,
Than any divine eternal sight,
For 'tis Fate's hand, so ravenous

That brings us this sweet parting... "

Riddle me this, ye wise old men?
If you remember, tell me when
Was the last time you heard or read
Of the Dying consoling the Dead?

Thursday, November 5, 2009


I wasn't brought up with a silver spoon
I knew I would strike gold on my own
I never asked anyone to break my fall
I knew one day I would soar above them all
I did not fall in with the crowd
I knew they would turn to me in the end
I was asked to wear faces like masks
I knew I had to look in the mirror someday
I was asked to fall in line more than once
I knew exactly where that line ended
I was told about caution and prudence
I chose integrity and passion
I was expected to wither, to crash and burn
I was sorry to disappoint them
I am everything I could be
I choose to be everything I can be
Today is the first day
Of the rest of my life.