I’m trying many, many things.
And that is why I never ship.
I never pick. I never stick.
I must embrace the obvious:
Remove the darlings from my day.
Retain precisely one effort.
But how exactly do I choose?
I do not know which one’s the best.
Which one will move the needle most.
Which one will make it worth the while
For ending every other quest.
It’s killing me. Today I’ll snooze.
Tomorrow I will try to choose.
For me to say, “I love you” too,
I have to know my “I” is true,
And what I understand of “love”,
And if I know “you” well enough.
—
To say my “I” with confidence,
I have to find my quintessence.
My purest “I” is in my art.
It’s where I live with all my heart.
I’ve tried so many different things,
But nothing gives my soul its wings,
Except the act of crafting lines
That interpret our world’s design.
Unreasonable – yes, I know.
I’ve tried to let this madness go.
But every time I’ve left my art,
I’ve seen me crumble, fall apart.
Without my art, I have no why.
Without my art, there is no “I”.
—
Of all the words I’ve cut and pieced,
I understand this “love” the least.
Some days it makes me overjoyed.
Some days it leaves me mad, annoyed.
I think this love’s a living thing.
And just like every breathing being,
It needs nourishment: happiness.
That’s freedom from our crappiness.
It’s not about the things we gain.
But fathoming the other’s pain.
A means for us to empathize:
To see their pain through their own eyes.
It’s not about us sharing rooms,
But making space for each to bloom
Into our individual “I”,
For each to find our ikigai.
It’s not about the things we say,
But what we do in our own way
To bring each other daily peace
In health, and in the worst disease.
It’s not about a sacrifice,
But willingness to pay a price
To have the other in our day.
We’re lost without them anyway.
It’s hard to love with daily ease.
But only love can bring us peace.
—
I know a little bit of “you”.
The things you like, the things you do.
The things you value, things you don’t.
The things you will do, things you won’t.
Your imperfections rivet me
Like golden streams of Kintsugi.
Though parts of you are still a mess,
Your wu-wei is effortless.
You’re stronger than you think you are.
For ones you love, you stretch afar.
You have an aura you don’t see.
You are this poet’s fantasy.
With you, I’m spirited away.
Your acts inspire every day.
I’m slow to learn the truths they teach,
But they are depths I’m moved to reach.
They teach that love is being there,
To show, not say, how much you care.
That listening means keeping quiet,
Even if I think I’m right.
That patience is an active move.
It takes some time to find our groove.
To understand our different ways.
To figure what our silence says.
There’s much of you I’m yet to see.
You’re infinitier than me.
—
I’m sorry, couldn’t come online
To be your pizza Valentine.
But this I know, and this is true,
I love you, love you, love you too.
You made me feel I’m fine as me.
Already, I am somebody.
Deserving life. Deserving love.
Already, I am good enough.
Despite my werewolf tendencies,
You sought from me no guarantees.
No matter how my demons raged,
You stayed with me to keep them caged.
I made a threat, you did not flinch.
I pushed, you did not move an inch.
It mattered not how hard I tried.
You did not let me die inside.
You knew my screams were cries for help.
But only I could help myself.
You did not try to save my soul.
You made me feel already whole.
Without a single spoken word,
You heard what no one else had heard.
The holes I’d failed so far to plug,
You filled them with that single hug.
My demons are inside my genes.
With age, they will grow even worse.
My family has suicides –
The quickest way to beat the curse.
You know I’ve tried it more than once.
You know I’ve vowed I won’t again.
You know I’m now responsible
To keep my loved ones safe and sane.
The more I live, the worse I am.
My demons stretch me thread by thread.
I’m managing the best I can,
But there are many years ahead.
I won’t remain the wit you love.
My meds will dull me nice and slow.
You asked me what I fear the most:
I don’t have that much time to go.
I feel my mind is breaking out.
My genius will leave me soon.
I have to write my poetry.
I have to write it night and noon.
It means I’ll give my sanest years
To make my best art every day.
And you will have me at my worst
Around the time I start to grey.
If what I’ve seen is what will be –
How hard it is on ones who nurse –
You’ll suffer even more than me
The brunt of this genetic curse.
My madness will be unfettered.
I’ll throw at you my every pain.
Regardless of how pure your love,
The beast will not be prince again.
And so, I have my last request.
Before you choose me, think at least,
In future, will you have the love
To kiss the beauty in the beast?
I’d sworn I’d never wear perfume,
Before you showed me fragrant oils.
I’d sworn I’d eat no bottle gourd,
Before you mashed it, fully boiled.
I’d sworn I’d buy no fancy herbs,
Before your tea with lemongrass.
I’d sworn I’d never love again,
Before you showed me what I’d pass.
Though love is all the vows we take,
It’s also promises we break.
1.
She said she liked the flab on me.
To hug me was so “pillowy”.
“I’m jealous of your girlfriend, yo.”
I said I was still single, though.
I took her to the ice cream store.
She hugged me tight, but nothing more.
She took my number, never phoned.
I knew I just got Teddy-zoned.
2.
I found another. Pretty cute.
A family of much repute.
She said she liked me very much.
Like cotton candy to her touch.
I bared my soul, she shared her dreams.
The target of her teenage schemes:
A wealthy boy for whom she moaned.
I knew I just got Teddy-zoned.
3.
She pinged my Yahoo Messenger.
To meet the “local listener.”
She hugged and cried into my shirt.
And said I understood her hurt.
I calmed her down. I made her laugh.
She pinged after a week and half:
“We’re back together. He atoned.”
I knew I just got Teddy-zoned.
4.
She did assignments in my dorm.
I weathered all her tantrum storms.
She’d snuggle, curled, into my lap.
I’d pat her head throughout her nap.
I organized her birthday bash.
She called a guy who brought her hash.
I found them necking, pretty stoned.
I knew I just got Teddy-zoned.
5.
And here we are, two Teddy Bears.
Two softy souls on steady chairs.
So careful with our wrinkled hearts.
But smiling through our lemon tarts.
You’re trusting me. I’m trusting you.
And all our words are passing through
Our bullshit-filters, sharply honed.
It’s good we both got Teddy-zoned.
You wonder who’s the boss species?
Us, Homo sapiens? You sure?
I know of few who’ve kept us slaves.
For them, there’s much that we endure.
They make us work in heat and rain.
They make us bring them food from far.
They make us take them round the world.
They make us question who we are.
To some extent, I understand
The hold that some of them exert.
But some are just too genius
To make us put so much effort.
The Theobroma cacao –
Whose pods are bitter, taken plain –
Has somehow learned to rule our hearts
By tying up with sugarcane.
You feeling low? It’s there to help.
You feeling high? It’s there to share.
As ice cream, shake, and bar and cake
And mousse and truffle and eclair.
You screw up? Count on it to fix.
No gifts in mind? Just go with it.
And if someone says they don’t like,
You know they are a hypocrite.
The point is, when I talk like this –
I’ll lecture on your chance remark –
I may not let you speak a word,
So, shut me up with chocolate dark.
You’ll get me at my lowest now.
And I will often disappoint.
I’m far too disagreeable.
Neurotic, bitter, moody kind.
I’m wonderful on certain days.
On certain days, a werewolf, cursed.
I’m grateful, though, for every hour:
The happy best, the ugly worst.
The things I had, I’ve given up.
Except the worms inside my head.
The ones that gnaw me every time
I get some stable work instead.
I’m often quite indisciplined.
I’ve made me unemployable.
By whining in my poetry
I’ve made me unenjoyable.
So, here’s the deal I have for you.
It’s not romantic in the least.
It isn’t hashtag-valentine’s.
A simple partnership, it is.
If you can make our daily bread,
If you can help our bodies thrive,
I’ll bake for us a daily rhyme.
I’ll help us keep our souls alive.
Reminiscing and laughing free.
Just you and me and memory.
And doing nothing all day long.
And that romantic Elvis song.
And stand up shows, and sit down eats.
And waltzing to imagined beats.
And chopping, stirring, “Is this done?”
And stairwells with the setting sun.
And fort, and dome, and palace ground.
And broken rules, and temples found.
And things we planned, but never did.
And naked parts we’d always hid.
But now you’re far. I can’t do much
Except to feel, caress, and touch
The love and warmth and care you took
To press this rose inside my book.
You cannot blitz your life away.
Or riddle work with bullet games.
You sought a focused mind, but got
Addiction stamped with GM names.
Who cares you play the Caro-Kahn?
Or Karpov in the Ruy Lopez?
You must preserve the piece of mind
You’re gambiting a thousand ways.
You have to move with tempo now
And calculate a deeper line.
You’ve lost so much material,
It seems you’re planning to resign.
You know you still have counterplay.
A step a time is not a crawl.
Do not, do not, do not go down.
A king is made for standing tall.
Minakhi Misra 