The way out....

Embellished with gold
as she is,
Streaks in silver glisten
On her tresses,
falling across her face,
As do her unshed tears;
The house of two score years,
sheds its own.
Walls had ears,
but the words pierced
and hurt more,
and thinned them to a grid

Like a marauding monkey
swinging wild on a branch ,
His words fly around and stop
He watches,
His joy in her trauma,
And her limbs cringe and tighten
Withdrawing inwards ,
defiantly stiff.
There are no words
But she has seen the gleam
in the taunting eye...

Lungs packed, a sense of fear,
she even suspects her sleep,
her food.
Sitting at the window, staring
at the palm tree
which has witnessed all.

A barren life,
hers;
Devoid of heart,
fruitless,
his.

A deep breath,
a few more days,
She feels the lump
sometimes at her breast,
sometimes in her throat,
Saying yes
to the radiation
they say she needs;
And she feels
a lightness, of being
her own woman,
confident.
Something
to finally ,
happily,
terminally,
radiate away from him.

Mind Mango Musings

Life is a set of travels through a bunch of squares. Sometimes, again and again, one gets back to square one. But one learns to learn. And if you try hard enough, you get to avoid the snakes to climb up a ladder.....

The Mind Mango
ripening in anticipation
of someone's
golden future;
Wishful foliage,
Green and hopeful,
Blossoms nodding
on an indulgent tree,
Unfolding ,
hopeful of the fruit,
sweet
of the effort......



But
shifty rains hoodwink
your logic,
Dark but willful clouds
sometimes
Parching the blossoms,
And
you remain,
a slogging tree
struggling to
push the sap to the leaves
and branches,
and although skeptical
at the roots,
still
urging the blossoms
"Wait! Dont give up !
These days too shall pass
and life will be ,
sometime,
maybe....
Sweet and Golden Yellow,
again......"

Climbing minds

It stands
Erect at the peak
supreme in its simplicity,
Holding out its arms
in welcome
A refuge from a troubled world,
A troubled mind.


The paths are many,
Through dappled meadows,
Arched palms,
And dark woods.
But the two climbers,
see different things,
In the evening gloom.



He, of the mind full-of-worms,
Striding across creeping plants,
Snapping branches like
One day he would his mind,
Hitting his stick on the stones
pretending it was her,
Ensuring that she would get lost,
And he rushed ahead,
Missing the path to the peak

She could barely stand,
Trembling with more than fear,
She dissolved onto the floor,
And tapped around for support;
A small clearing with trembling hands,
shows a covered step,
So a bit closer to the top,
Somewhere, a lopsided smile,
The trees are charmed,
The branches bend to escort
As she struggles across the
clearing steps,
A short breath,
she spies a bud
Face up to the sun,
waiting for a new day,
On its own.

The slow trudge to he top,
Limbs tired , so too the mind,
But the mixups in the brain
have cleared, like the air
after the first monsoon rain.....

Nature has its own court,
For offenders of the mind,
They are lost in the woods
Worms all over their mind,
Parasite is as parasite does.

Excruciatingly tired,
She sighs as the house nears,
A door swings open,
Friendly faces at the window,
beckoning her to a new life,
Where a troubled mind
Is patted asleep,
Comfortably fed,
And she nods off,
To wake up to a new day,
Amidst her new friends
The mind in smiles.....