Pain…

Your agony, not mine

Yet, I bleed without pain;

Your grief, not mine

Yet, I cry without reason.

Tears run unushered,

I don’t know them

Yet, I am hurt without pain.

O the million hearts world over,

Blood speaks the same everywhere

So does a word of prayer!

Your silence, silently mine.

Copyright © 2017, Deeya Nayar-Nambiar

Advertisements

Fallen Flowers

 

Flowers

I gather some fallen flowers,

Spread a milieu from death,

Of  life and thereafter,

                      Where miseries thrive not –

                      A vision wished to be acknowledged.

A little errand of mindfulness;

Grass seemed pleased.

Pleased, only to my eyes.

Copyright © 2017, Deeya Nayar-Nambiar

 

Questions…?

In the many unanswered questions of “why me”,
A mother who lost her son to time factor,
Left alone to fend for herself,
Couldn’t still hold herself responsible
For the miss calculations of life and dependence.

Expectations turn painful
While fear takes away the confidence;
Why blame anyone
She says, ” that’s my karma”
And her pain eases.

As she lies down to sleep,
All I could hear was a soft snore.

Copyright(c) 2016, Deeya Nayar-Nambiar

Matches

Matchsticks scattered around

At an untimely moment,

 Having spilled out

Off the carelessly opened box.

Fingers plied aimlessly

Gathering into a pile

The little wood with coloured head

Dormant to the world.

A few broken halves felt cold,

Calm, as it seemed

My touch indifferent

The candle burned in memory….

 

Copyright © 2016, Deeya Nayar-Nambiar

Am I?

DSC02954

 

 

Attuned to Nature

I metamorphosed

And my Self morphed

Differently to situations

Dressed to occasion

A fashion parade –

I equate life.

Critics and verdicts

Reasons and reasonableness

Role reversals many

I am  but unscathed

True to my Self.

Copyright (c) 2016, Deeya Nayar-Nambiar

 

 

Lives

image

Weighed lives.
A few cycles of sun and moon.
Wind tickled nerves
And the dance,
A few tourists acknowledged;
Till the leaf sailed along
And fell on the way
That the cyclists chose;
Wind brushed  it aside
While the Yarra river celebrated life.

Copyright (c) 2016 Deeya Nayar-Nambiar