Dance of my life

I am laughing,
the moment holds me in thrall.
Alive, beautiful, full of promise.
So achingly beautiful,
that words fail.
My eyes crinkle.
my smile widens
as my spirit dances...


Past the yet-to-settle smile,
a rush of pain sneaks in,
needing but a split second,
Loneliness follows behind,
casting a vulnerability so fragile
that I can scarce breathe,
A million memories flood in,
a million aches...
I freeze.


Dancing in the moment,
I ache.
Dancing in joy
aching within.

A million aches
familiar and new.
A million joys
holding me in thrall
as I ache.

- Srividya Srinivasan 31/3/2105

Flirting with Time

I rushed about madly,
scared that time was running out.
Time stood still watching me,
waiting for me to come
to a standstill.
I do not perceive its pace,
amidst my frenetic one.

Everything is a blur,
my heightened awareness
screaming its aliveness,
into my being.

I stand in the middle of it all,
calm and still.
All about me is the whirling madness
as Time rushes by.
I wait for Time
to come to a standstill.

Everything is clear,
my heightened awareness,
whispering my awareness
into my being.

We are even.
We are one.
In the stillness.
Time and I.

- Srividya Srinivasan 14/03/2015

Calm

A great calm has descended over me,
casting its spell amidst the madness.
I no longer rush in to add my bit,
have lost the eagerness to explain,
to be understood.

I am an observer now of my own
small dramas and the world's dramas,
a part of it all, and yet not quite.

My grouses first went to a corner
and hopefully,
have slunk away forever.
My victimhood has been abandoned,
the cross slowly disintegrating
out of misuse.

I have lost the need to compete or compare
my former selves to this new self,
except, in recognition of this dawning calm.

I embrace my older, volatile self with love,
and ask her to find a place beside this new me.
Her motives are genuine, even if she does
wear her emotions on her sleeve.

And, we sit in companionable silence,
my older selves and this newer me.
content to just be.
Watching. Observing.
Drinking it all in.

Others.
Myself.
Me in others.
Others in me.


- Srividya Srinivasan 14/03/2015

The Single Mother

The single mother sings a lullaby for two;
the strong one the child turns to,
the man of the house she has to be,
the gentle one the child turns to,
the woman of the house she has to be.

Her fears are not to be her child’s,
Her tears are to be her own,
shed in the dead of the night,
all alone.
She dare not long for herself,
nor dream anymore.
Oh, what can the future possibly hold?

Giant shadows of fear
chase her through the night,
as the world asks, is that right?
Oh, how could you be so bold?

As the darkness falls,
and the walls close in,
The single mother
sings a lullaby for two,
She who sleeps with
her eyes wide open,
beside a trusting child.
She, sings a lullaby bold.

- Srividya Srinivasan, March 2, 2015

Living through the scars

We shall forever be battling our scars, healing ourselves from the deep scars of childhood, to the awkward scars of adolescence, the hard scars of adulthood and scars of frail old age. In the answering spark in another's eyes, the cosy laughter of friends, and the circle of family, we rush to heal, heal our scars. In the eyes of a complete stranger, we finally find our balm until they are a stranger no more, and then we scar again, only to bleed again. - SS