This is for all those who have survived emotionally, mentally and physically abusive relationships. For those who have discovered the precious blessing of sleeping deeply, peacefully without being haunted by crippling anxiety and the renewed torture that every new day would inevitably bring in its wake.
I look at him Threatening, raging Berating me The cruel words sidling in Between his verbal pounding I recognise, I see His enterprise To humiliate me To agitate, to fluster me To intimidate To paralyze me. I’m going to leave you One of these days If you tell Anyone anywhere About any of this I swear I will make you into the beast The one unfit The one tearing down this relationship
I look at him Frozen in place My heart still I’m incapable Of seeing beyond My fear I’m incapable Of seeing anything Beyond the terrifying sacredness Of the union We signed together I’m incapable I’m powerless I’m numb All I hear is a hum A white noise in my head Autonomous, involuntary Humming humming humming Preserving my sanity Maybe my life …
And then one day He followed through On all the threats That he had let loose Into the fabric Of our togetherness I’m l e a v i n g y o u He said, emotionless This time there was no Placating hum No cloaking thrum Inside of me Hiding me, shrouding me I looked at him Cold sweat gripping My face, my neck The insides of my thighs Dripping, dripping endlessly But my mouth was parched My lips were dry I felt like I was going to die
But I didn’t crumble In the wind Whirling in the murky Depths of things I survived I stayed alive That shared horizon Spilling blood Dirty linen streaked with mud Was washed into the sea Decaying into infinity A whole new realm had suddenly Stretched out in front of me Full of peace and gratefulness Gladness and serenity Where I was calm and I was whole I had my body and my soul There was no fear No agony No trauma filled spaces Beckoning me
Like Kafka’s Metamorphosis* In reverse I have broken through the curse No more thrashing, crashing heart Petrified and frozen limbs No more grim hellishness Of emotional poison stings Making me cry, making me cringe I’m still here. I’m here still My lungs now take in their fill My heart is beating rhythmically No suffocating anxiety Once more I hold the hand of the child That has lived in my soul all this while For her Nothing is impossible.
* KAFKA’S METAMORPHOSIS: Metamorphosis is a novella written by Franz Kafka which was first published in 1915 and is considered one of his best works. The main themes revolve around the burden of responsibility, isolation and alienation, and sacrifice.
I look at the leaves Serrated edges, little flowers And I wonder About its identity The shrub growing under the amalthas tree You would know You always knew As we walked in the street Outside the house You could name every flower And every tree Every creeper Even the sickness That gripped some of the leaves
You looked at these Concerned, everything else forgotten The fact that your own body Was racked with disease That ever-present pall softened By the enormity of your being Your own pain erased And at that time, in that moment I too forgot The wheelchair that you were in That you were ill; that we were grief stricken I dived right in, feeling, seeing You weaving magic around everyday things Flowers and trees grew chimerical wings
The swaying kachnar The beskirted Ashokas Bobbing profusions Of jasmine and phlox Fragrant bunches Of nargis and freesias You pointed them out with happy ease And worried when any of these Were less than their perfect selves And I too smiled and looked In wonder At how joyfully you revelled in it all Holding infinity in your lit up face Offering up so much love and grace
And for those moments I too forgot The pain and the grief It was you and me Sadness free While you took me on ethereal trips Where nature in all her fullness Unfurled - beautiful, calming, brave We were carried away on a gentle wave The pitted leaves Still vital and green Were the only things we needed to save
I pick it up, I feel its form I hold it in my hands, the warmth Transfers slowly and I sense The tingle of the words within
I gaze at the lines upon its face I turn it over, my eyes trace The tale it whispers all its own Its beauty hidden, as yet unknown The seeds of intrigue have been sown It invites me in, in subtle tones We follow, I and my intuition On lightning wings, we race in! Another stridently demands that I Feel its spine from end to end And then I oftentimes comply As it tells its story by and by
I leave my existence behind For a while I’m in another life I go on voyages fraught with love With pain, with humor with suspense I journey on through these realms Sometimes laughing sometimes tense And then I will glance again At the portal to the world I’m in Pausing my trip-in words The story wraps itself up, and I’m Whisked back into the world Where I’m dutifully marking time
I feel its form one last time I leave it with a wistful smile That Teller of a myriad tales Waits until I visit it again
* Title inspiration from the novel by Thomas Hardy of the same name
I hear the leaves rustle in the breeze The gust picks up slowly, gradually I hear the rattle of a window The one that lies loosely in its frame Like a watchful sentry Announcing the entry Of a wayward breeze That rolls in through its screen To knock upon the door At the end of the corridor
I walk out of my bedroom into the lounge The sentinel window Is now trembling, recoiling Rattling its pane Warning of rain That will soon moisten Its face; gushing, Rushing, tearing The dust off old memories - Renewing the pain
I see the first flash of lightning and then The thunder breaks The storm has arrived I look at it through the window Now lying quietly in its frame Soon the glisten of its pane Swells into a stream flowing Down silently, as I sit quietly With the sweet ache Of old memories again
I saw a little spider today Weaving itself a pathway; In silken thread and zestful strides It made its way up the side Of the glass wall close to me I kept watching it carefully Partly because horror flicks Have made me squirm around these arachnids But mostly because of the enterprise It put into its little life
It climbed halfway up the glass And then a gust of wind alas! Tore its thready ladder up It swayed before going plop! Right onto the table where I sat with my coffee to stare At this busy creature lift Its body up bit by bit
I moved back in mild alarm Not because I’d come to harm That was not the thought I had My arachnophobia got me to stand It sat there a little concussed I think Before it gathered up its wits And off it went climbing again Forming anew, repairing
With so much drama in its life Buffeting winds, with predators rife The spider stays focused on its goals It weaves its web, mends broken holes. We can learn a thing or eight From this marvellous arachnid - To go on even when we’ve gone plop! To persevere, to climb back up Folks, if little spidey can be A superhero, so can we.
Mahvash Mohtadullah - The Roaming Desi 