MEGHA SOOD

MEGHA SOOD

 

Survival Is An Art

What do you do with the wound

that is healed?

Do you count along the scars

as the soul heals and repairs

or you scrape it again?

Not to forget the lesson it reveals.

What do you do when the

broken heart heals?

when it leaves the cracks

like that broken vase on my mantle pieces,

with those dead lilies.

What you do with the letters

written with apology and despair?

your despondent heart

stops breathing,

or starts dreaming a new affair.

What do you do when the autumn leaves

those dead rolling behind,

stripped from the mighty embrace

of the old chestnut?

reminiscing the days

so sublime.

Survival is an art,

we all are

a living testament

to this truth,

a life begins

after severing the

umbilical cord

from its root. 

Survivor

There goes the survivor

whose silver dreams are etched in his spine

the bones which rattle

sweat which turns into a crimson

the cartography of pain

undefined

you cannot measure the tenacity

the floodgates

his wet trail has broken

crumbled into pieces

his faith remains unshaken

there goes a survivor

whose shining visage

can be only matched

with a thousand summer suns

when you scar his convictions

and his thick yellow skin

filled with the welt and blisters

of the insults hurled at him

but you cannot match his gaze

the limestone ash which he rises from

can paint your generations to come

scrivened in the crow's-feet

the fine lines on his face

he stores the lessons

in the folds of skin

A calligraphy of pain.

 

Bootstrap

“Sometimes even to live is an act of courage.”

― Seneca

I'm falling and tumbling

down this rabbit hole

clutching and scraping the walls

trying to get a foothold

a grip, as I fall

Falling incessantly

fighting to be alive

hoping to get a foothold

running from being

skinned alive

With my bloody knuckles

scratching the surface

to break the fall

and looking for the face

to turn my face and

save me at all

I had this epiphany

a striking revelation

that there is no hand

being held out

and no rope being thrown in

I'm on my own

and can save

myself alone

let the kicking begin

They say the power is out

we are helpless without it

ignore all the bloody naysayers

un-hear those babbling tongues

strike the light from within

let your bootstrap kick in.

MEGHA SOOD

MEGHA SOOD lives in Jersey City, New Jersey, USA. She is a contributing member at Free Verse Revolution, Heretics, Lovers and Madmen, Sudden Denouement, Whisper and the Roar, GoDog GoCafe, and Poetry editor at Ariel Chart. Over 350+ works in journals including Better than Starbucks, FIVE:2: ONE, KOAN, Kissing Dynamite, Foliate Oak. Visitant Lit, Quail Bell, Dime show review, etc. and works featured/upcoming in 35 other print anthologies by the US, UK, Australian, and Canadian Press. Two-time State-level winner of the NJ Poetry Contest 2018/2019.National level poetry finalist in Poetry Matters Prize 2019 and honorable mention in the International Pangolin Poetry Review Prize 2019 judged by Melissa Studdard. Works selected numerous times by Jersey City Writers group and Department of Cultural Affairs for the Arts House Festival.