The Shelter

It’s like a drug,

it’s definitely an addiction

what is it in you

that I loathe to come

closer to you but

hate being away for long?

is it love that makes me

sleepy, tires me in and out,

overwhelms me when I come away

but gives sweet dreams

and a glow on my face

when I am with you?

anything else is not enough

I simply want this – and only this –
day and night

Poetry and Photography: Sanchita C 2014

Us in this Universe

A fraction of the moon

- half-lit, half-dark; and a

bright star or may be a planet –

at a bit of distance in the

violet-ish dark sky; somewhat

like you and me: together

up there, close to each other

but still far; shining but

threatened by limitless black

emptiness; hanging on,

singing songs of hope and future,

scared of what might befall

both or one of us if the universe

decides to collapse or expand

Text and photo: Sanchita C 2013

the end of dreams

All the dreams were crushed

the moment I finished talking

The dreams which did not

stop even when I had given up,

the dreams which transformed

into fantasies when I managed

to squeeze myself into an empty corner

or found my own space – often

in the middle of chaos and screams,

the dreams which filled me

with warmth and hope,

the dreams which came

when I was not talking to you

and some times after we talked

But now – after a dry-

business-like conversation

between two friends who

have years behind them

and perhaps also ahead of them

the dreams simply ceased to appear

Text and Photo: Sanchita C 2013

Us in these Days

The mask is

gradually slipping

from sainthood,

a shadow slowly moving

over wisdom

We are not

the people I thought

we were;

the days are not

the ones I thought

they would be

Hours are almost full,

fine waves of artistry

impregnate seconds of doubt

which empty itself

to give way to longing

© Sanchita C Text and Sketch

Chapter in Between

Reality transforming into fantasies

- takes a second -

and before I know it

I am travelling on a different plane

Its always about you

How I would

prove myself to you

How I would

enjoy your company

in different circumstances

Fantasies and you

fill up the void

between my mind and heart

There is echo

of hope all around the blank space

but no path to

an open window or fresh air

I am stuck in between

with hopes, dreams and despair

You will live forever

here, in between, with me

Shadow

A shadow –

of thought

of imagination

of love

Tormenting

Distracting

Comfounding

This wasn’t meant to be

I wasn’t meant to fall

Make me bleed

Make me forget

Don’t let it happen

Those fantasies –

Make them stop!

Let the empty mind be –

Don’t fill it up

With garbage

Which destroys

Time and soul

But oh!

The thoughts

The dreams

The hopes

A little light

Burning somewhere

Makes life alive!

Crush

The face jumps

Back and forth

Sideways and vertcally

Into the subconscious

In my dreams

Between daydreams

All over waking hours

How strange it is

To have connection

With a certain stranger

- An unknown entitity

But a known face

And an undefined emotion

- What an inexplicable event!

 

So I am happy

My mind is occupied

Proves that I am alive

Though still a fool

As if I’ve not moved beyond

Those confused teenage years

- Still dreaming, still hoping…

Living Life through Someone Else's

A wide gaze,

Breathless chest -

She is absorbing

My stories

Bit by bit,

Transposing herself

In the stories

In my place

Substituting her

Life with mine,

Which I think

Is as ordinary

As it goes,

As normal

As possible:

Does she know this?

 

Is it love?

- The reason for

Her transposed

Existence; or

Is my life

Truly exceptional?

So any one

Would want it?

I admit though

I love it!

- Her desire

To be me…

But she should

Get her own

First-hand life –

Need I tell her this?

My Country

Off I will be
to a familiar country
where the soil tastes so sweet to me
I will want to be me

The place which stayed stationary

in time – well almost! where my every worry

vanishes in its muddy ponds, bottle green trees and sultry

air like a child does in her mother’s lap

All my memories, much sadness,

a sense of gratitude are fully alive -

thanking the place for its existence

for they live because it does