THE DAY THE WAVES CAME

We have to get out of this alive. I looked over to my sister standing knee deep in the debris and holding on to a palm tree trunk- holding onto dear life.

I tried to keep talking to her amidst the rumble the sea was creating, almost as if it didn’t want any voice rising above its own. Half the town was being swept in front of our eyes and it was a sight that made your heart sink. The grumbling was deafening. Cars and entire houses were being swept away as if they were made of paper. That day the sea was the monster devouring everything that came into its path.

Debris laden water was rushing in, flooding the coastal town. Clouds of muddy sludge started filling the clear blue water of the pool and for a moment, I forgot I was struggling to keep myself from being swept away. Wooden planks and metal objects kept banging against my leg under the sheer force of water. But for a moment I watched that dark slurry invade the pool, like a sandstorm inside water. It moved as if a spell was cast on it, as if it was a monster feeding on that clear water. I couldn’t blink for it was such an incredible sight. At a moment like that, when destruction was all around me I was captivated by the image in front of me and you may call me crazy. But I forgot my fear. When you are staring at death, you struggle to seek that moment when you can ignore the horror of it. If I was supposed to die today, what would I not give to not feel the desperation that precedes it.

When that moment ended, I realised we had to get out of this alive. I turned towards Mahi who seemed exhausted and was drowsy. 

Hey! Hey! Hold on, okay? Stay awake. We will get out of this. I promise you we will. This is not how we die, okay?’

Forlorn

image

You are a devil forlorn:
The surreal stream of my consciousness
Morbid and morose you rise,
Even when it is bright outside.
And I imagine meteor showers as I walk to work.

And for a reason unfathomable,
My feet are at your command,
With roots that perlocate the ground,
When rain falls like a thundershower.

Yet inseparable as we are,
You make me wonder,
What it is like,
To drown,
To burn,
To suffocate,
To be crushed under the weight of bridges that collapse,
When I’d rather shut my mind to thoughts.

And yet you make me meet death,
Time and again.
And see this world in an afterlife:
Tears in my eyes before I go to sleep.

No I don’t want to die.
I have watched myself from the other side,
Again.
And again.
And again.

But you’ve told me countless stories too;
Where I have saved lives,
And where I have discovered magic amongst the clouds.
And who can I credit,
For the fact that I really can,
And I have said this before:
That I really can tell where the nails in someone’s shoe hurts the most.

How I detest you sometimes,
Fickle imagination,
For showing me horrors that only exist in nightmares,
When I am wide awake.
But you have let me know,
That the solitary reaper might be singing,
Somewhere,
When he watches me intently,
As I sing my song.

You make my words come alive,
On paper like castles of sand:
Fleeting.
You, momentary as you are,
Make me the person I know I can be,
And oh,
How I love you for that!