Roots

Saturday, July 22, 2017

The Hole in my Soul

The void sings to me
This moment, it does
I am the matter
It lacks
It knows
And I do
And yet,
And yet
I give it your face
And hers
And his
And I try to fill
The void with other centian matter
And, so, it leaks
Empties even before half full
Now I am tired
Not with the void
But my farcical piling

- CG 22-07-16 00:00

The Tattooed Woman

She drapes her grace
In a piece of silk
Round it snakes on her
From her feet
Her waist
Her bosom
Her shoulders
It punctuates on her neck
Through a colourful butterfly
She hangs about the railing
With no care in the air
She croaks in a tough voice
And stamps her personhood
In a heckling feminine space
Which notices her
Then forgets her
She is just the fringe co-traveller
Carrying differing contents inside her silk
- Chandni Girija 
22-07-16

Friday, July 7, 2017

Empath

An empath is a bastard
Who feels the surrounding energy
The glow in the hearts of others
And the heaviness of their sadness pit
An empath is not a saint
An empath is not equainimous
An empath is the fulcrum of dynamic energy
An empath is always disturbed
An empath feels all
But no one will claim an empath
Because she is too much
And so
An empath is a bastard