Shadows



    Shadows befriend her in
    The chimes of the night
    She sits on the staircase
    Whispering to its shadows, 
    How it feels to be a complete mess;
    How it feels to be unsteady
    Not giving and taking
    In measures of perfection;
    How it feels to be a fluid
    Rather than a fixed space of
    Bricks huddled together,
    Loving and living in measures,
    Staying firm and sturdy,
    With heads held high
    Despite being stamped upon;
    How it feels to be a river
    An overflowing river that does
    Not know to give in measures,
    That giggles when stamped upon
    Creating ripples of solace,
    One that does not know how
    To love with conditions- one
    That is endless, going on and on
    Until the day it dries up, parched,
    One that carries away everything 
    With it - everything in the one 
    She has loved and dwelled
    Unlike these stairs that steadily
    Fix things with goodbyes and
    Dead stares, solid, confident.
    The shadows of these stairs
    Yawn, having so easily forgotten
    Everything in the one they've
    Loved, retiring to rest in the
    Embrace of the cosy evening winds.
    The brightly lit, sound clad 
    Procession of Lord Ganesha
    Passes by in the street, offerings
    Held, chants spelled and 
    Drums beat through the
    Fissures in the dying heart.
    The cracked rosary ring breaks
    Into two and falls over the 
    Toppled pages of the book
    One half is missing, she notices
    She takes the other half in her arms
    Luckily, the half that is left is
    The half with the cross.

    - Vinaya Mary
      19.11.23

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