#112 Fall Poem

This time of the year the shadows fall longer,
And the red hibiscus of your mother has bloomed again.
Having escaped your paintbrush after a lot of tries
Scattered fallen leaves on the dusty path, ready to run with the wind.

Do you know all the birds visiting you,
Sharing stories from all over the world?
Or the old cat from Murakami’s novels who strolls lazily
Into a shade, remembering the bygone days.

In your garden there is peace –
A wind-chime sings, tied to your favourite walnut tree
Life pacing on the busy ant-hills at day’s end.
Oh! How a few stars lost their way ending up early in dusk’s orange sky.

Melancholy is another name for the times gone,
But all tomorrows bring something new called happiness.
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#111 From the Pickle Jar

Another day, another late morning,
I am awake. But I don’t feel like waking.
Maybe a cup of coffee can help?
Or maybe my supervisor’s reminder
That shall get me straight to my work then!

There’s much to do, that shan’t be done,
Much to do, but none’s power in my hands,
Much to do, yet laziness is bred,
And still, so much left to do,
Perhaps, I can do it all another day!

I’ll rest on the perches of my pronoia
Having done nothing, I’ll still be content.
Bless the broken road that I took to reach!
Spending days one by one,
From the pickle jar of fermented dreams.

Not a special day, this is just another one
From a long list of days left desolate
Days I have reserved to suffer,
Days that have lost all meaning since,
Days when I am scared to dream.

But, there’s no reservation kept
Holding back on my sleeve
Nothing to lose, there’s a cup of coffee for everything,
An empty chair in the living room
And some unanswered texts, they too will wait for me.

Possibility of a magic resides in afternoon siestas
Where most difficult questions find their answers too,
The warm mellow wind enters curious through the windows
Spotting a child lying next to his paper planes still unfinished
Softly touching his forehead, his dreams are given a push.

Still stuck to a lonely apartment at slumber’s end
End of the tunnel brings no light,
Unanswered texts and sparing calls try reaching me still
I keep my eyes fixed outside the window
A beautiful sunset appears to brings me peace.

Evening arrives too fast, another day spent thus
Doing nothing but just smiling at the accompanying walls,
A cat meows at the stars coming out to play
The distant temple bells mock Destiny, having already lost faith,
Another day ends just as it had started.

There are a few questions in my head
Keeping me awake in my lonely bed,
Did the gerberas bloom in winter?
Did she find an end to her sadness?
Will Han Geng release a new song ever?

As I drift slowly to my sleep
One question stays on, repeating itself,
“Aren’t I bit too harsh on myself?”
At the end of 26 years I learn,
I had never known what self-compassion meant.
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