Thursday, November 12, 2015

~I am your museum~

I don’t look like my mother; 
Not even the least.
Yet, I am she.
Her habits are mine,
so are her joys, her fears,
and to some extent, her beliefs too.
Yet, I do not resemble her.
I just bear her.
Like a museum,
where the remains on display
are not even vaguely
like the original organisms,
yet, remain preserved.
So is my mother.
Preserved in pieces, within me.
And so are you all my loves
who have touched my life
In an unforgettable way.
I bear you all.
I am your museum.

The Death Wish

I wish I die.
Like the leaf
that has just fallen down,
and no one noticed it.
Not even the tree
that bore it for so long.
Like the water drop
that decided to drown in itself
like a whirlpool
while the river was busy
chasing its existential purpose.
Or the ray of sunlight
that silently slit its wrist
and faded to white
when its twins
were rushing to
kill the darkness.
Or that distant star
that closed its eyes,
forever, after they got sore
watching over the world
for years.
Or may be that God,
who decided to
suffocate itself to death
with the offerings
you piled before him.
I wish to not leave behind
the deafening shrieks
and screams of loved ones
or a trail of silent mourners.
I wish to die quietly.
In seclusion,
In solitude.
In peace.
Like the universe.