Perhaps
Perhaps she was born on a rosy day
Perhaps she made everything bright
Perhaps she gave the blossoms a peachy blush
Perhaps she dreamt of lavender stars at night
Perhaps her youth was a lively pink
She must have glowed like a heavenly sprite
Perhaps she chose love as it was burnt scarlet
and her broken heart scattered violet twilight
Perhaps her tears merged with the inky sky
Perhaps hope was truly out of her sight
Perhaps she found solace in the black emptiness
she breathed her last – an untimely demise
Yet in the end, her pale shell of a body
was wrapped in crimson silks so ornate
She took with her all the pain and despair
leaving only traces of her ashen heartache.
©2023 Taruchaya. All rights reserved
Category: Pain
Guilt Trip
Guilt Trip
Guilt flows in my veins
laid bare like branches in winter.
Im constantly conscious
Oh! That dress suits only models!
Less food and more water…
perhaps that’ll lighten my heavy mind too!
I must sit farther away so that I’m visibly invisible.
If only the burning questions could burn calories!
That would’ve been better than subtle judgements.
Is my voice taking too much space?
Im better off mum perhaps…
acceptance is the key to happiness!
Shall I curl under the blanket
or maybe walk behind in oblivion?
Or better still become a shadow…
unseen in the dark depths of self-loathing.
Never been the best…neither good enough!
It’s okay… consider me vacuum.
My presence won’t matter…nor absence felt!
But let me clear just one thing…
I’ve already drowned myself in guilt…
so don’t waste your words to push me down.
My world lies somewhere in a depth
that no one else can reach.
Finally…a safe haven for a numb poet!
© 2023 Taruchaya
Traces
Traces
How far does death bring closure?
Do unseen open wounds stop festering?
Does the vacuum left behind get filled
or memories cease their pestering?
Something in the sub-conscious mind
awakes with a jolt of flashbacks –
fading faces with unfading memories…
time long gone never loses it’s tracks.
Pain echoes through the soul…
phantom pain… invisible yet noticeable.
Once again you must quietly endure,
the storms that wrecked havoc undeniable.
We lose loved ones but not their traces
and move on clutching their memories tight.
Their signs, moments or recollection stay
like shimmering moon on a cloudy night.
©2022 Taruchaya. All rights reserved.
Broken
Broken
A heart that doesn't beat anymore...
eyes that no more cry.
Nobody knows what happened before...
nobody cares to try.
Sympathy doesn't soothe the living dead
when cobwebs weave them a shiny shroud.
The cold ground finally becomes a bed...
memories don't know how to cry aloud.
Fighting alone the greying storms,
the exhausted sun bids adieu.
While the earth soaks in little warmth
from traces of yellowing hue.
In the end we fall like a broken feather...
ending up in the depths of abyss.
Relationships limited to fair-weather
never even find anything amiss.
Some still pick up broken fragments
and try to make something new.
Carefully avoiding deep attachments...
while preserving their tears as dew.
Those broken shards now hurt only those
who carelessly try to trample over them.
Cocoons are built so that no one comes close
Be understanding- try not to condemn.
© 2021 Taruchaya. All rights reserved.
Echoes
Echoes
The calling bell rang through the hallway…
only commotion of sounds stayed.
Amidst the beeps of machines,
no footsteps approached the room.
The night wasn’t dark but long…
bright light seeped through the door.
The woosh of heavy breathing merged
with the hiss of decreasing oxygen.
And the constant coughing burned the lungs,
or whatever was still struggling to work.
A spectrum of tiny lights crisscrossed the room.
The smell of medicines and soiled dishes –
the unkempt beds wet with sweat and tears.
Darkness isn’t scary, nor the long night.
The scariest feeling is to die alone…
without saying goodbye…
leaving without the last glimpse of life-
without a chance to even contemplate
over the regrets, remorse or celebrations…
without the last warm touch of little hands.
The smiles that made your day- the wet lips
or the tight hugs resonating strong heartbeats.
Somewhere in the mind the echoes remain,
reminding how precious this time is- the present.
To make memories or to take memories…
when the journey finally ends!
©2021 Taruchaya. All rights reserved.
Sparks
Sparks
My head is heavy with thoughts
Feelings throbbing in veins
Like sudden flood amidst draughts
Running wild without reins.
Words forced to stay silent
Choke the breaths tight
Clogging the lungs to such an extent
That tears blur the sight
Swollen fingers muster the courage
To write down it’s agony
And fill each stained page
With infinite iridescent irony
Dipped in the ink of emotion
I fill the darkness with sparks
Rhyming all the commotion
Joining starry dots with arcs
© 2021 Taruchaya. All rights reserved.
Chaos
Chaos
The day awakened grumbling
grey sky yawned aloud
Lights cracked the wind
rain drenched the cloud
And it poured incessantly
as if clenching it's claws
Soaking the surprised earth
without a break or pause
Tears of pain overflowed
breaking through big boulders
Slipped and tumbled instead
like burden off the shoulders
Perhaps the wind felt pity
with tender hands it gently caressed
The water quivered as it cried
breaking into ripples that spread
A heavy heart eventually breaks
pouring all the feelings out
The slightest nudge is all it takes
to bring chaos about
© Taruchaya 2021. All rights reserved.
The Last Chance
The Last Chance
I didn’t take the wheelchair!
The nurse was sceptical
when I confidently said
that I can walk downstairs
…even though I was too weak,
my will was strong enough.
I remember how strange it felt
I was walking after many days
It felt surreal…I was going home!
The smell of sanitizer slowly faded
as I walked towards the elevator
awaiting it to open its arms one last time.
With a ding we reached the ground floor
The nurse lead the way
deftly balancing my reports under her arm.
I clearly remember the cold feeling
as we crossed the morgue…
I willed myself to look straight ahead.
Light poured in from the entrance
I blinked to adjust my eyes and ears
to the light and sound of the day.
Aah…it felt warm…it felt good…alive!
My parents stood there waiting for me
I was finally going home.
But the smell and sounds still haunts…
peeping from behind the curtain of mind
Unwilling to be shaken off
or even forgotten…nah…not yet!
Neither the ambulance sirens
nor the flatlining machines.
That was a close call…too close.
I breathe today…many lost their breaths
shutting down the organs one by one
and in a matter of minutes…end came.
Pillows stayed wet with last tears
someone struggled hard but lost…alas!
No amount of words can empathize
what one has lost… time is irreversible.
Nope, words do not affect me anymore
for I lost a big part of me when I struggled
to breathe…an endless race against time
thinking perhaps this was my last breath!
This pandemic isn’t a joke
but the gravity of the situation
is only realised by those who faced it.
Is it really necessary to bet on one’s life?
It’s all over the moment you stop breathing.
Not everyone gets a last chance!
©2021 Taruchaya. All rights reserved.
Elusive Sleep
Elusive Sleep
Sleep eludes a mind with hoarded thoughts -
they stubbornly stay like nasty clots.
Unlike bruises they don't show,
like a little secret no one can know!
The quiet ones will understand,
suppressed words are like gritty sand.
They prick the sole and scratch the soul -
can't fill a heart with gaping hole!
When few feelings fail to escape,
thoughts then take a demonic shape;
chaos confined to the core of heart,
tends to easily break us apart.
So let all pain flow through your verse,
before it becomes a woeful curse.
Shards of glass can cut you deep...
broken thoughts will steal your sleep.
Overstretching always tightens the knots...
sleep eludes a mind with hoarded thoughts.
© Taruchaya
बेबसी क्या है?
बेबसी क्या है?
माँ बाबा को आपके प्राण बचाने के लिए
दूसरों के आगे गिड़गिड़ाते देखना…
बेबसी है सांस लेने के लिए ऑकसिज़न सिलेन्डर
ढूंढने पर भी ना मिल पाना…
बेबसी है किसीको अपनी आँखो के सामने
आखरी सांस लेते देखना…
बेबसी है लाख कोशिशों के बाद
मरीज़ को न बचा पाना…
वह ऐमबुलैंस का शोर…
वह मशीन का अलार्म…
वह लोगों का कराहना…
वो आँसुओं से गीला तकिया…
वो चींखें जो निकल नहीं पाती हैं…
वो सांसे जो अचानक रुक जाती हैं…
यही है बेबसी –
मूक दशर्क होने की बेबसी।
©तरुछाया
Tacit Verses by Tanushree 