Passion…unbridled

When most news around you is nothing but depressing

I wish there would be more people stressing

The more positive news from our skies-

The astronomical phenomena that take us by surprise

And a sense of awe- like the news that the earth is going to acquire

A second moon for nearly two months- would this inspire

Some storytellers to weave new stories around it

Or give old romantic fables and ballads a new twist?

They say the borrowed asteroid would be

Too small to be seen by the naked eye unfortunately

But astronomers would certainly have some fun

Documenting the course of this one..

*

The skies have put up spectacular shows lately

Northern lights in our backyards we’ve been able to see

Before that a total solar eclipse made a rare appearance

Witnessing these astronomical phenomena has given me pleasure immense..

*

My child is exposed to distressing news every day

Therefore I want to bring to his attention the larger forces in universe at play..

(The book in question is “There are Rivers in the Sky” by Elif Shafak)

I am that hopeless bookworm who can get

Lost in the pages of a book and forget

The passage of time and the world around me

I can get transported to a world imaginary

In an instant if the story holds my attention

Breaking that spell needs extraordinary intervention

Until I have turned the last page of the book

Outside the confines of the pages I hardly look

I can read to the exclusion of food and rest

Unlimited time in reading I can invest

If I find a book that has the potential

To touch my soul- it becomes a need essential

To read the book cover to cover in one session

My zest for reading morphs into borderline obsession..

*

When I read a book that has such power over me

I cannot help but feel a sense of melancholy

As I reach the last few pages signaling the inevitable end

Of the book, I find myself wishing I could extend

The book by a few pages so I would not

Have to leave the world in my current thoughts..

*

I have finished reading the book and I find

Myself with a hangover, the book still occupies my mind

I congratulate the writer in my head and proceed

To post my review categorizing it as a five-star read

It is hard to put your head down and wait

When you’ve become used to gratification immediate

When the lines between need and want blurred have become

Having to wait for another time seems cumbersome..

*

I had always been an impatient person

Hungering for results as soon as I’d begun

When the desired results I did not see

I would abandon the path totally

Of course it got me nowhere and my life became

A series of abandoned projects for which my impatience was to blame

*

Maybe it was age, or the unpredictable world around me

That taught me the importance of waiting patiently

For life to unfold, while I kept working, improving my skills

With the hope that someday my goals would be fulfilled

I have not reached any goalposts but at least I have not

Given up projects started, I think I have progressed a lot..

*

It takes time to arrive at the right moment

When you can strike the iron that is hot, fulfill your intent

If you have patience, and work steadily towards your goal

At some point you may witness your ambitions unfold

But if you are impatient, that moment might stay

Perpetually elusive, never come your way..

*

I do not know what tomorrow has in store

But patiently let me work on my goals some more

What is it that you plan to do with your one wild and precious life, this quote

Brings me to the verge of tears, it’s almost like Ms. Oliver wrote

This specific line with my existential quandary in mind

I examine my life, ponder deeply, I still cannot find

That one thing that I would be able to claim

As my mission in life, that one purpose I would be able to name

As something to strive for- I am living from day to day

Waiting for a revelation to present itself along the way

A eureka moment that changes my life’s course

A realization that hits me with a sudden force..

*

In my one wild and precious life I continue to live

Like an observer, watching life happen to me, not being proactive

In trying to bring about a change around me

I sit back and watch the world passively..

I put in honest work for a living, pay my taxes that are due

I care for my family- in a perfectly ordinary way too..

But is it enough to live my precious life in this manner predictable

Am I realizing the full potential of which I am capable?

*

These questions sometimes keep me awake at night

In this wild and precious life, I want to find and shine my light…

“Is there nothing else that can be done?”

I hear the plea in their voices, I see the desperation

In their eyes as I try to have this difficult conversation

In this miserable, tragic situation

I am not the treating physician but I happen to be

The one medically literate person in the family

The prognosis given by the treating team is dismal

It is hard for loved ones to grapple with this reality abysmal

I have tried to reach out to experts that I know

For my efforts, I have nothing positive to show

My medical training also tells me their physician is right

Unfortunately there is no tool left with which they can fight…

*

I feel torn between reason and emotion

I wish there existed a magical potion,

An experimental drug, a novel therapy

A medication that could work serendipitously

But I know we are just in the bargaining stage of grieving

Desperate to ensure no stone unturned we are leaving..

*

Dealing with impending death of a loved one

Is the hardest thing to do, knowing that a hideous disease has won

The battle in a young person causes excruciating pain

It feels like all efforts and prayers have been in vain

There is no alternative but to come to terms with reality in the end

A grim reminder of the limit to which human influence can extend..

Language has a rhythm, words have a flow

When you substitute prose with poetry you know

The cadence of each syllable, the symmetry of rhyme

Words find expression in a manner sublime

In a harmonious sequence that mimics

Cleverly arranged notes in music

With rhythmic brevity, a poem conveys

Its message in an oblique, circuitous way..

*

I love the underlying cadence

Of words arranged in a rhyming sequence

A poem read out loud all my senses does engage

Amalgamates the best of rhythm and language

Each word, each syllable has an impact

It is an immersive experience in fact

I know I can soak myself thoroughly

In a lyrical poem’s vivid imagery..

Well-written prose nourishes my mind

But my soul is nourished when a beautiful poem I find

(I read about a Yupik mother creating alphabet coloring book for her children in Alaska because she could not find one, and came up with this idea. There are Indian entrepreneurs who started their businesses because they could not find what they wanted within the United States.

I wanted stuff that represented my roots but I could not

Find anything suitable despite searching a lot

All the stuff available catered to the dominant culture alone

There were many people like me around, but for reasons unknown

My culture appeared to have minimal representation

In books, artistic objects and fashion..

How could I pass on our cultural heritage to my son

If appropriately themed objects I had none?

*

I never thought a businesswoman I could be

But in the lack of cultural representation I saw an opportunity

If you want something that is not available to you

Then creating it instead of fretting about it is the best thing to do

So I collaborated with other community members to create

A series of products that my cultural heritage would incorporate

My vision was audacious, my experience non-existent

But to bring my idea to life was my sole intent

Because there was a market demand, my business

Despite a modest start, soon became a success

From clothing items to home decor to toys, coloring books and more

Contemporary functionality blends with cultural aesthetic in my store..

*

Where there is a need and a will

There appears a way that allows you to fulfill

That need- my business on this principle was created

Now my cultural heritage is on display to be celebrated

I tried to tell my healthcare team something did not feel right

My concerns were dismissed as a consequence of sleepless nights

As a young mother- I was told it would not last long

I was a mother, and mothers were supposed to be strong…

But I was dealing with exhaustion extreme after a year and some more

It was not something I had heard before..

I pleaded for some tests to be run on me

And was found to be anemic profoundly

Finally I was able to get the treatment I needed

Because I was persistent, my body’s signs I had heeded..

*

Approaching my sixth decade, I was feeling bad

Most days of the week, weird symptoms I had

I saw my doctor but my symptoms were attributed

To menopause, I wish I could have more forcefully refuted

The insinuation that my chest discomfort was “functional”

Because my estrogen had plummeted to a level dismal..

That feeling in my chest turned out to be

Due to near-total occlusion of my main coronary

Thankfully it was found before I had a heart attack

It was not hormones but blood supply that I lacked..

*

Even in this age and day, women’s complaints are not taken

As seriously as those voiced by men

From hormones to anxiety to multitasking, everything gets blamed

But the actual complaint of a woman is ignored all the same

Unless a woman happens to be persistent

In advocating for herself- or there is a catastrophic event..

In healthcare all of us including women

Are guilty of listening selectively to men..

*

I am ashamed that such biases exist in medicine

When a woman voices her complaints, we must learn to listen

To her concerns, and not dismiss them as “in the mind”

Many illnesses much earlier we would be able to find

I read a post then compulsively scroll

Through the comments, go down a rabbit hole

Of never-ending fear-mongering and negativity

Almost as if under a spell, forgetting my proclivity

Towards anxiety as I continue to consume

All the toxicity online, through scenarios describing doom

Most of the time I am completely unaware

Of my self-destructive behavior when I should be practicing self-care

Until I have stopped scrolling and have had time to reflect

Upon what I have read- once I have had time to dissect

The post, related comments and their effects on me

I realize how I have subjected myself to needless misery

All the negativity, hate and vitriol

Have left me angry- I must not doom-scroll

If I want to stay level-headed and calm

If I want to avoid self-harm..

I turn this way and that, raise or lower my chin

Trying to stand or sit at different angles to appear thin

Restrain my natural smile so my teeth do not show

Try to get on my face that artificial glow

Re-take pictures a few times because I am not

Satisfied- I look worse in the photographs than I thought

The unmistakable signs of age I am trying to hide

To look my best, every trick in the book I’ve tried

My photographers too end up exasperated with me

I’ve tested their patience to the maximum degree

*

I sift through my pictures, disappointed that they have not

Turned out as well as I had hoped and thought

The background is beautiful, the scenery breathtaking

But looking at my subpar pictures, my heart is breaking

There are hardly any pictures good enough for me to post online

I look old, disheveled, a few pounds heavier than the image I have in my mind…

*

After I have fretted over my bad pictures to my heart’s content

I realize I have become obsessed to a dangerous extent

Regarding how I look in pictures because people who see

My profile online should have a favorable image of me

The weird thing is that in real life I care much less

About my appearance- the people I meet frequently I have no desire to impress

But if I am being honest I pay much less attention

To appearances in real life, I focus more on interaction

With others, while online I seem to scrutinize

People in their pictures- it sounds pathetic, I now realize..

*

While trying to look presentable in photographs is fine

Looking artificially better for the sole purpose of posting online

Is something from which I must consciously stay away

At this self obsession I must try to chip away

All the time I spend worrying goes down the drain

My anxiety is futile, my theoretical concerns in vain

But somehow I have made myself believe the superstition

That worrying about something would prevent it from reaching fruition

I am grateful when the calamities about which I’ve fantasized

Never actually end up getting realized

*

I know life cannot be smooth sailing all the way

I know plans can be derailed any day

I keep plausible contingencies in mind

But I am still unable to relax, I find

The contemplation of a disaster is much worse than being in the throes

Of an actual situation, when my brain knows

That I have to actually act, I have no time to visualize

Hypothetical scenarios, I have to deal with what is before my eyes

I am not that bad at troubleshooting actual issues that arise

Even though I constantly dread an unpleasant surprise

*

Much well-intentioned advice is focused on channeling positive thoughts

I have been trying that forever but I cannot

Switch from worrying to thinking everything would be fine

The only trick that seems to work is to distract my mind

By engaging it in other activities that are productive

That is how with anxiety I am learning to cope and live..

Hundreds of thousands of pages I have read

From the time I learnt to read, I have fed

My brain thousands of nuggets of phrases and sentences

Packaged into stories that still occupy my senses

I have been reading all these years but now I feel

An overwhelming urge to write, to reveal

All the thoughts and emotions swirling through my mind

For the stories stored in my memory, an outlet I want to find..

*

When I think about writing, various roadblocks I face

Should I write a memoir or should I fictionalize the characters and place

Should I write in poetry or in prose

What if I open a can of worms I cannot close

What if unwittingly someone’s unseemly secrets I reveal

What if I unearth hidden trauma from which I myself cannot heal..

*

So many doubts come up when I try

To write something substantial, that is why

I restrict my writing to short verses that do not

Have to describe in detail my thoughts

*

One day I hope I shall gather the courage

To write a long story, page by page…