as the world mourned and struggled to contain its entirety between concrete, i stood still

my hopes, dreams, emotions, life…paused…waiting for the machinations of fate to touch me just once, to irrevocably change my existence, to do something that i could never do

exhausted from fighting, i lay down my burdens, my desires, i slid into the arms of the ever-forgiving sea…a hope of being held, a hope of drowning…a need to stop feeling…everything

eyes closed, heart stilled, in desperate prayer…i surrendered to a thoughtless regime

benumbed i stood, unaware of time, of faces, of voices…hiding in the depths of apathy…

a niggling awareness of the hurt i might be causing to the voices i shunned — the only indication that i still lived — wormed its way through my skin, trails of loathing left behind, engendering even more apathy…

a perverse knowledge that swimming out of the depths to meet the scouring sun would be worse than the slow burning of lungs…that memories would fade better under the refracting sea than the brightness of light…kept me suspended…

i fell deep…nearing the point where i’d be unable to return…forever…

and awoke obdurate life…unwanted, unwilling, i screamed as my limbs disobeyed, swam me up

i resisted, needing to escape…they overrode, needing to live…

i ended up on the shore…and here i am…suspended between inaction and action

but praying for the latter…

© Indira Reddy 2022

Stilled was originally published in Pâro on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

cacophony of daily street life
silenced by a commanding thrum

thoughts freeze,
slip back into
memories
of the deaths,
the grief
that hovers
just beneath
the mundane

it beats again, and again,
falls into a rhythm
hard, ruthless, imposing

thoughts shred to mist
hearts race to throat
primal fear wrings
air from lungs

the drums rage;
the plaintive call
razes the walls
we thought could
withstand tsunamis

cassandraic visions
of our own mortality
overwhelm
the corners of eyes

mere prey, we wait
huddled inside
for silence
for deliverance

the beat slows,
air loses its solidity,
relief beckons

and is shattered…

another drum
screams,
another death
tolls its burden

nameless grief
carves itself a place
into quotidian rhythms
as the drums volley
ceaselessly…

© Indira Reddy 2021

Unceasing Toll was originally published in Pâro on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

in the midst
of a deadening dark
inconducive to reason,
this first bloom
on the first day
of the new year
whole, perfect,
mimics a benediction — 
one irrational budding hope
cancelling another irrational fear — 
a lifeline grasped
on the edge of sanity,
and thus…life continues…

New year in India generally differs by state. In my home state of Tamil Nadu, it is on 14th April. By a bizarre coincidence, this plant flowered for the first time since I got it two months ago, exactly on the fourteenth; and it shone in the sun, gleaming betwixt the tangled stems like a beacon of hope.

© Indira Reddy 2021

Sophistry was originally published in Pâro on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

her head
comes up for air
from beneath the clouds
as she parts way
with the gravity well

for the first time
in forever
she feels the breeze
on her skin
twining under
the fine hairs
to reach her skin;
she is touched

her eyes unblur
the world appears,
same as how she’d left it
with its small curiosities,
a daily magic,
the memories overlaid
on banal items
rises into the air,
she acknowledges them
her sight remains unfogged

she gets up,
feels the glorious pull
of muscles stretching,
mild twinges add
to the euphoric release
of accumulated tension

she ventures
out from the safety
of the big, thick door,
the house feels empty,
she makes a run for the street,
she makes it

twilight rays coat
every leaf in incandescence;
the air in her lungs
rushes out;
such beauty…
could it really be?
her steps slow
in enchantment

she has almost stopped

wonder envelops her world

but a whisper gets past,
its tawdry tendrils
break her bubble;
she feels the glances
skewering her;
the unspoken approbation
at her behaviour
blushes her whole body

her shoulders hunch,
she retreats,
most of her
slips back
under the clouds,
to where there’s
just dank light
and the unending pull
of the abyss

© Indira Reddy 2021

Emergence was originally published in Loose Words on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

it draws me
from across the room,
my eyes trace the swirls;
the artist’s emotions
peel away from the canvas
in lazy twirls
spiralling into my heart;
i’m incandescently alive

A response to Randy Cooper’s prompt — Swirl

SWIRL

© Indira Reddy 2021

Drawn was originally published in Chalkboard on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

written on roughened skin,
ㅤ ㅤa ridged map
ㅤ ㅤof personal history;
written in annealed bones,
ㅤ ㅤpaternal disdain
ㅤ ㅤfractured, inherited history;
written in cringing body,
ㅤ ㅤstrangers pillage
ㅤ ㅤobjectified, nay normalised
written into fractured soul,
ㅤ ㅤstripped rights
ㅤ ㅤpulverising self,
a litany of hurt,
a lifetime of fear,
and yet we pen
words of…hope

This is a (very late) response to Harper’s prompt — History in Chalkboard

History Is Happening

© Indira Reddy 2021

What is written is… was originally published in Pâro on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

when the world seems frangible,
when life feigns ephemerality,
you weave few words,
knit a reassuring hand,
letting me unravel
while tethering me
to solid reality — 
you make me
unbreakable

Inspired by Harper Thorpe’s beautiful prompt “Friend” and those wonderful friends I was lucky enough to find.

Just In Case

© Indira Reddy 2021

Unbreakable was originally published in Chalkboard on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

your concern burns
plasma bright,
you find a way,
grab it in fists
permanently clenched,
the path doesn’t matter,
only its existence;
you forge ahead
unheeding
of the words
that stumble across
the surface of my tongue,
eager to play,
to work
with you…
but your eyes
are fixed
to a horizon
i can’t feel,
a goal
i don’t need;
you can(won)’t
be swayed
in your righteous strut,
swathed in the
delusional knowledge
of the purported good
you are doing;
my words stutter,
dissemble ingratitude
in your ears;
affronted,
hurt,
you lash out;
your anger glares
volcano hot;
we remain
blinded…

© Indira Reddy 2021

Blinded was originally published in Loose Words on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

the sinner
goes scot-free;
the sinned
are shamed,
gas-lit into
believing
(pretending)
it was
their fault;
for any other crime
would this law
be accepted?

A response to Nyaalo Mia’s prompt — Sin

Blood

© Indira Reddy 2021

Who Reaps it All? was originally published in Chalkboard on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

i could see it coming
slowly, the awareness grew;
entropy had won,
‘twas sundering time;
the rupture was sudden;
before the sonic boom
of your departure
had reached my ears,
you were lost to sight;
goodbye, wait,
let’s try again — 
all permutations
of that inmiscible medley
of us and our broken love,
coagulated in my vocal cords,
u n s a i d;
i raised my dependable walls,
barbed, booby-trapped them,
but my emotions,
tortured into monsters,
dug out chunks,
screamed rage,
berated injustice,
profused bouquets
of poisoned vengeance;
i fought them with carbs,
i swayed them with sugar,
i drowned them with spice,
but nothing melted
the block in my throat;
congealed mess
sent creepers
winding down
nerves;
dulling, slowing;
each synapse
talked in treacle;
embogged
blocked
corpus
id
ego
nothing

© Indira Reddy 2021

Blocked was originally published in Literally Literary on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.