mother – My Spirals

Inside my head.

What do I think about? Is it love or my family?
Or is it a wonder trip and all-nighters?

I think of rainbow unicorns,
with soft wavy hair like my mother used to have,
and a horn that sharpens as a spiral,
much like my thoughts.
It has eyes like me father’s,
and crooked teeth that remind me,
of my sister.
It’s my family unicorn and it gallops in the sky.
I love them.
It’s not perfect, but it’s beautiful.
Also ironically, real.

I think of Christmas trees,
with a line of golden bells and colorful things
that hold within them,
stories of smiles and tears.
It is green and smells like a new day,
and looks exactly like what I drew it to be,
back in second grade.
I am a pirate and it’s my treasure box.
I love my memories.
It’s not perfect, but it has a star.
Also ironically, the star is from the sky.

I think of hearts on the corner of folded pages,
with red sketched inside of it,
a red that reminds me of my girlfriends stubbornness,
and how she blushes.
The paper is creased but the heart is still complete,
and it reminds me of a very old,
romanticized war.
It is my life’s ‘profile picture’ and I’ve liked it myself.
I love sketching.
It’s not artistic, but it is elegant.
Also ironically, three dimensional and inside my body.

If you want to connect with me on Facebook, click here.
Instagram handle: @myspirals

Previous post : The war has ended.
Related post : Palettes of life.

Friends, if you like reading my work, do share it with your friends (on whatever social media you deem appropriate). It would be amazing to have more people reading my compositions. Please help my infinity grow bigger ∞

Family.

So every once in a while, I write something about my life in order to tell you what makes me an infinity, and to hear about what makes you an infinity. Tell me about your family!

“Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.” – Lilo and Stich

When god made man, or whosoever did, the man asked for someone who’d always be on his side. That’s when god (or whosoever) made more men and women, and called it a family. My family is a little bizarre, as probably all of ours are. Some of my best memories with my father, my mother and my sister are these. Here is a small and brief glimpse into my family.

It was a summer morning, about two months after I had given my Tenth grade finals. My results were up on the internet at about four in the morning, and I was sweating rivers as I checked. My result was pretty good, and so I let out a sigh of relief as I slowly went to my parents room to tell them the result. My dad was still asleep, and so I gently woke him up and told him that the results were here. He was still lying on the bed as he waited for me to tell him my score. When I did, he sat up and gave me one of the tightest and warmest hugs ever as he smiled.
When you’ve lived with your mother was long enough, you’ll actually see everything falling apart if she goes away for a few days. Me, my sister and my father did. My mom had gone for a week to her parents place, and we caused chaos. We had oats and cornflakes for three consecutive meals almost every day. No school, so we made sure the house was a mess. When she did come back, it was the best thing ever. It was as if you’d come out of the water of the swimming pool after a long game of “Let’s see who can hold their breath for the longest.” It was like finding the name of the song that had you worried sick because you couldn’t remember the name.
From hiding test papers, to walking down paths covered in broken twigs, golden leaves and possible dangers, my sister has been my partner-in-crime. I don’t have one favorite memory with her because I’ve been with her for almost eighteen years now and every day with her is still special. Here’s one though. When I was really young and hardly knew how to swim, me and my family went for swimming. Despite being on the shallow side of the pool, I lost my footing and thought I was drowning. My sister, who happened to see this, was laughing at me instead of helping me. That bitch.

You don’t get to choose your family, but I am glad to have the family that I have. Maybe someday I’ll talk about how crazy they are. Until then.

Bless this family. ∞
Adieu.

If you want to connect with me on Facebook, click here.
Instagram handle: @myspirals

Previous post : A list of things about her.
Related post : Home.

Whisky Words: Project (11)

This is Submission ELEVEN of The Whiskey Words. The Whiskey Words is a writing project (and a giveaway). The winner will be announced on 1st of April.

Still born

there was nothing–

no sound
no movement
no hope

one night you were boldly with me,
and the next morning, gone

unexpected and torrential
in its suddenness and cruelty.

i sleep and breathe and walk around
in emptiness
and try to etch you into my skin,
unsure how much longer
the details of your eyelashes
and gaping mouth
and blue fingernails
will stay with me.

the last bits of you
drip from my body,
sweet smelling remnants of your protection…
that failed.

the fullness of my chest
has begun to evaporate,
a sure sign my body’s dream of you
is really giving up.

i move
frantic but paralyzed.
the clocks and calendars have all shattered.

i share a laugh with Father Time,
knowing now what he knows
cannot be explained
to anyone who has not
housed death.

i count my fingers and count my toes.
how can i still have 10 of each?
this walking grave of mine,
no longer a woman’s body.
it has transformed into a shallow coffin,
scarred by an indescribable kind
of maternal violence.

as i bleed the rest of your being
into my underwear,
i pause
in a hopeless kind of hesitation and stillness
trying to will the process to slow down

begging on the bathroom floor,
please don’t leave me, sweet girl

dear god, please don’t leave me.

– Kathy Gardner (blog)

Whisky Words: Project (5)

This is Submission FIVE of The Whiskey Words. The Whiskey Words is a writing project (and a giveaway), and if you’d like to participate, here are the rules.

The woman of substance

The tattoo on my collarbone,
Attracting the bees around,
Is a symbol of my girly bone
In the moonshine.
My curves are judged
In the outfit of my free style,
It is the thinking which got fucked
In the lifestyle.
My flaws are criticized
In the hypocrisy of the perfect world.
Categorization was accepted
In the blindfold.
My eyes water
In the affection of my admirers
Forgetting the pain of my
Blood and milk.
Am I black or white
In the eyes of karma?
Underestimating my strength
In the hues of melodrama
My beauty is in question
Of my unread lessons
Having a loyal intention
To be read in person.
The mother, the wife, the daughter
In the drama of life
Asking the glory to salute
The women of substance.

– Bhavya Prabhakar (blog)

Whisky Words: Project (1)

The writing project starts today! This is Submission ONE of The Whiskey Words. The Whiskey Words is a writing project (and a giveaway), and if you’d like to participate, here are the rules.

Hush

The voices inside of me tell me I don’t matter. In all my heart and all my stupid mind, I know they are veracious. Every time someone left me, they added another voice inside of me. Will these voices ever be hushed?

He was this guy I once knew, with a fair heart. He promised me his fair heart was mine to keep. I guess that wasn’t true. Every time that I cared about him it was assumed by him that I, I the one who loved him the most, had a selfish reason behind it. I do not know what is yet to come to me. All I know is that I wanted him to tell our kids how he met their mother.
After all this, after all the sour truth, I know that this will still hurt me, every time I think of it, it’ll break me into another piece. I don’t know what my sin was. I assume maybe it was caring way too much.
She made me lay beside her, and she left me as she assumed that I had slept. In my head, when I ruminate the same old memory, I still shriek and shiver and cry out to stop her. I was a kid back then, I was too scared to tell mom that I hadn’t fallen asleep yet.
They saw a spark in my eyes. In reality, it was just a tear drop I was holding onto. A tear that might escape my eyes as I blinked as another voice yelled at me, and made me realize that I don’t matter.
At night, when he held me, I knew I was his princess. Daddy’s little princess. It sure was annoying sometimes, sometimes suffocating, but today, I want to be suffocated. I remember, when we listened to songs, he’d make the lyrics about me. But I was a kid back then. Now that I listen to those songs, I see the light showing me that those were just the lyrics all along.

I know that this pain will last a lifetime and I know that I have committed the seven sins. I am trying to build a dyke around my heart, protecting it from the waves of these evil voices, from their screams and from all the shattered dreams.

The voices inside me tell that I don’t matter. In all my heart and all my stupid mind, I know that they are veracious. Every time they left me, they added another voice inside of me. Will these voices ever be hushed?

– Tanisha Hooda