Watch her Breathe

-
She lies on her bed.
The moonlight touching her skin...
She lies still.
I watch her from up close.
She seems at peace..
Her eyes closed.
I can hear her breathe.
It's slow,  but it's there.
I reach up and take her hands.
They are cold, almost limp.
But I know her heart's warm...
She lies still.
No movements.

Slowly, I pull off her duvet;
lift her up slightly.
God, is she not made of feather?
I undo her grey shirt.
She is all skin and bones...
I put on her pink shirt.
Her favorite one...
Am I hallucinating?
She just smiled, didn't she?
She used to.
She always did.

I rest her lightly back on her bed.
Then I snuggle myself beside her.
"My Princess," I kiss her forehead.
She just hugged me back, didn't she?
May be I could lie at peace too.
I close my eyes to our entwined hands.
And continue listening her breathe.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Heart on my sleeves

-
What is it like to have your heart broken by yourself?  Nivedita said this to me two years or so back, that I wear my heart around in my sleeves - it's too easy for me to let anyone walk into my heart, step and waltz on it without a promise. She never said it was something bad. She just said she was worried that it would put me into a lot of hurt and pain one too many times. And she was true. She still is. But did I stop carrying my heart around in my sleeves? No, I didn't. I have just raised myself up to be someone who believes that the world will be a better place with more happiness and love in it rather than hatred and hard feelings. And, today here I am, 20 years old dreamer who walks around with her heart in her sleeves. Today, here I am, a giddy, light headed 20 year old girl who gets her heart broken one too many times. Most days, I don't have any complaints for myself about the way I am. But sometimes, I like to question - why does it have to be only me w...
Read more

At the Sea

-
Image
I always knew that I’d love the sea the minute I saw her. It felt like an obvious kind of love. No matter how distant or foreign we were to one another, the love felt destined. The morning that I saw her, dancing so close to the shore, love felt tangible. I could touch love and let her slip through my fingers. I could let love come to me. I could whisper gently to her. And I could let her know that I miss home. Over 5000 miles always from home, at the sea that I had yearned for so long, was where I actually realized I wasn’t at home. As the sea waves crashed at the rocks, I felt my heart sink with another yearning, this time, for home.
Read more

The Journey

-
This was my first international flight - the first time that I was moving away from home for the long haul.   When I saw the morning sun that day, the hills, the cloudy sky, the Kathmandu skyline that I am so familiar with, I wept. I thought of Baa, Aama and dai. I thought of my beautiful dogs who I miss so much (I have smiled at every dog I have passed by here and called them a sweetheart). As the day began, I felt rushed - weirdly, all my bags had been packed a while back. I just felt like I had a lot to do, lists of mental checklists to go through. The rush was real. But it didn't "hit" me at the airport like they said it would. It didn't hit me when I sat down for lunch that morning - a full plate of mam, dal and tarkari that Aama made for us. It didn't hit me when I sat with my dogs and held them close to whisper to them to be gentle and sit tight, nice and warm at home. It didn't hit me when family started coming in at home to see me off. At the airport,...
Read more