Hold You

Source: Google Images 

I'm not the type of girl
who'll squeal and hug you hard
in trepidation
of thunderbolts clapping across the skies.
Instead,
I'll be staring at the clouds light up
  whilst holding out,
the piercing rain slash my breasts;
in comfort.
I'm the kind of girl
who'll smile and hold you though,
if these forces scare you;
  without judgement or question.
Who said boys can't be afraid of the
  rumblings far above our heads?

~Hemu

It Lulls Forever After the Storm

The sky has been split and I can see the many pieces
as they wait to be pulled with a gentle tap
and a strong hand.
It is starless tonight with a weathered smile
from dissolving clouds that pour their sorrow atop my
misery already floating over the metre.
I decided to knock one and remove its facade;
made up my mind to see beyond the outside.
My hands were at work and
eyes beyond it
as the frame collapsed and fell on me, face down.
Fragile is what I expected but
unassuming and a whole of the part it was,
of the complete wholesome.
I wish I knew how to explain what I saw beyond
the clothesline that cut the sky.
I really want to tell you how damp the terrace floors
were after appearing dry,
I lack the will to show you the intricate bits gathered
upon my eyelids as I blink
and the ego to let that all go.
Lying back down and looking at the dark bit
I have extracted,
I can only assure you there are more tears in that dark hole
than that has poured;
sucked into the emptiness of no reason.
                                                                                         

Source: Google Images- Wikimedia 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

Rain dance

I opened my eyes to the lashing waves growing in unison,
syncing somewhere, to the calls of it's long lost waters.
They crashed, livid,  on the rocks jagged in it's shape,
not caring enough if it'll hurt, not bothering if it'll kill.
The azure spread ahead, merging with lines I couldn't see,
throwing about grey blotches of clouds, mizzling against the skin of my arms.
I stood rooted, under a pavilion ancient, taking it all in,
sights I saw and the sounds I heard.
Sea brought with her, winds so loud,
singing a song I had never heard before,
blowing into my ears secrets I haven't known so far,
telling me to get out and see all that I've missed.
I saw the music travel through the blues and reaching the black I wore,
which, held the drops of the misty drizzle concealed,
as the afternoon sun refused to show..
throwing at me a wash of blue and light, at my face.
I stood there against the slapping drizzle through the small marquee,
trying to pull me out, and away from the diary and a pen,
while I stood rooted looking at the foam hit the rocks,
staying on still until air broke it's soul..Staying..
until he beckoned me out.
Beckoned me out to listen to the tune of the wind,
the joy of rain and the price of the sight I saw..
He beckoned me out. Out of what I thought and held.
I flipped the diary on the granite table so wet,
and walked out into the open to hold his hand.
How long we were each other's hands I barely know,
how long we talked in hushed whispers, I never reflected.
His words reaching me in, one word a time,
one syllable stretching into echoes into the empty mind he recreated.
I clung to his shoulder in completeness, dancing to the whisting winds,
and the beating waves on the sands hidden, beneath travelling wetness.
 The moistened air held me to him, his hand gluing us together,
as he made me realize what I had just stared at for so long.
Terpsichore, it felt like, all elements bringing him to me,
as he further wet my lips, the call singing like an unknown force,
not to be heard, but to be felt. To be electrocuted with.
 I danced and danced, until my legs became too tired to stop,
I closed my eyes to take in the moment I had lived through,
to breathe and feel his smell upon my neck,
I closed my eyes to him, for that one moment, outstretching my hands,
to welcome him to reality. To feel the wetness seep through my skin.
An eon passed as I opened my eyes to see the agaze of my friend,
a smile on her lips, a question in her stare.
I ran into the shelters, grabbed my diary and ran downstairs.
Not looking back. Not looking up.
But only the ground, because it kept my feet fixed to the earth.
Not like him, making me fly.

This was my entry at Saarang Writing Awards 2013