[UNTITLED]

He left
her
and this world
and made his way into oblivion
as he slowly dissipated
from the memories
of everyone he once held dear
But she is reminded
of his absence
despite the dementia
as the deafening silence
roars from the empty rooms
and echoes off the walls
of the empty house

She soothes her broken heart
with the thought of him
living inside her
as she breathes in the air
he breathed in and out
She soon forgets
all the pain; the misery
and drifts into blissful unconsciousness
only to be woken again
to the memory of his presence
before searching the deserted house
for a soul that would never return

The scab falls once more
and her wound breaks open
The pain gushes out
together with the tears
He died once
but she dies inside
a thousand times over

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NEBULA

(This piece was inspired by the quote/poem: “For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen; a gaseous nebula must collapse. So collapse. Crumble. This is not your destruction. This is your birth.“)

I saw in you a light

A star
encompassed and concealed
beneath your corrugating skin
Its luminosity radiating
through your blue-green veins
wanting
waiting
to seep through your pores
not to drain you out
but to unleash and fill
space’s infinite darkness
every void and abyss
with your awe-stricken aura
the world does not yet know
it needs to see

I still see in you the light

DEAREST GRANDPA

Dearest Grandpa,
Today, I turn twenty-one.
“A year older, a year wiser” you say,
but I don’t agree.

Because when you are around,
I still feel like the little, naïve girl
that you protectively held
in your arms.

You used to throw me in the air
and catch me,
so you could hear the laughter
that erupted from my mouth.

You lifted me up high,
bore my burden
and endured the pain, so that I
could see the world from above.

Then one day, you stopped.
I cried and wailed for you to lift me
just once more, not knowing
what had struck you is irreversible.

Your arms grew weak.
Your fingers bent sideways.
I silently watched as you struggled
to even lift yourself up.

I blamed myself for your frailty;
if you hadn’t spent your strength on me
you wouldn’t be like this.
You would be – you.

Even then, you were there for me
to wipe my tears, and tell me
it’s okay, that I can once again see
the world from above with you by my side.

I smiled at the thought and asked “How?”
You held me close, and told me
to follow my dreams, for one day
they will bring me to the stars.

I took your hands, those very hands
that once held me, looked at how
delicate they’ve become,
and I made you a promise.

I’m here now, grandpa!
Twenty-one, but still the same little girl.
Here, take my hand!
Let’s head for the stars!

Faristha Kanakkapillai

THE BUTTERFLY

I see it in the distance
flying slowly, but steadily
with its soft, orange wings

It lands on a marigold
that dances in the wind
The beauty dances along

Then the yellow and orange
miraculously fuse
into a surreal sunset

I fix my gaze and pull myself closer
cautiously, step by step
I leap and try to cup it with my hands
but trip and fall

I look up to see the elusive beauty
fly away, flaunting its pretty wings
I watch it float across the garden
and join the others of its kind

Within seconds, its orange wings
disappear among the others
And there I Iie, watching in awe
as a rabble of butterflies
paints the sky

Faristha Kanakkapillai