The way you love
are silent love acts to
little pieces of yourself.

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Whether in silence or chaos,
see yourself, sweetheart,
unchanged right in
the middle of both.

07/12/23

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The more I live, the more I doubt happiness is the default state. All living appears to occur in a state other than bliss. By aiming for and constantly being told to seek happiness, are we living simply to achieve a state of non-living? Nothing happens when one is happy. It lasts briefly, too, because like any other emotion, it is but a temporary experience. Why then are we urged to pursue happiness – a fleeting, ephemeral state? We should be taught to be content. Content to be alive.

27/11/23

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Repeating questions when ears no longer hear. Saving a seat. Picking up the phone. Waving back at a random child. Applauding effort. Forwarding a funny meme. Checking in when it's been too quiet. Buying the first onesie. Saving half of your sandwich for the strays. The pretense of being full when there is a last cookie. Sitting in silence next to tears. Lending your favourite book. A hug. Playing butterfly in a make-believe jungle. Showing up. A quiet "goodbye" after years of hope.

Love does not need to go big.

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When it gets dark, you have a number of options. Switch on the light, light a diya or a candle, or use a torchlight. If that's not possible, call your person or your people. Someone WILL share their light with you. If not, they are not your people. Go out, meet new people. Find someone who will make it less dim. In the process, you might be asked to brighten someone else's path. You will try your best because you know what it means to live in the dark.

When it gets dark, the secret is to keep going.
The sun will remind you that light is never missing.

12/11/23

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Ultimately, love shows up small.

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Art is a beautifully subjective,
elusive, and egocentric
experience.

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I breathe in the sweetness of your sweater.
Ringing laughter at the kitchen table.

I breathe in your innocence.
Lingering on our bedsheet.

I breathe in your freedom.
Running outside in slippers.

I breathe in your trust.
Secrets told in hushed tones.

I breathe in loss.
Childhood ran away.

My love, my sister.

28/10/23

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Writing is about living in abandon. Like when you run down the stairs of majestic ruins, hair dancing, and your feet venerating the earth your ancestors walked on. Nevermind if it's in your dream. When you silently curse the bike holding up traffic, and you take a peek at the dirty limbs, too tired to pedal faster after a day of toiling. Guilt and sadness know how to tango. Oh! And shifting ever so slightly for the rays of afternoon sunlight to play on your hand, while you draw circles on your palm with your finger. Looking into the eyes of puppies and remembering eyes that no longer search for you; they never said goodbye. Frail bodies which once carried you needing to be held. Looking into the mirror. Reflections don't last forever. No moment ever does. And so, you live this one.

20/10/23

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They happened to you.
They are not you.

06/10/23

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