Rattle

You may lock me up and hide me away.

You may keep me from coming out to take my place.

But as long as even a glimmer of sun shines through,

I will rattle my cage… I will rattle my cage…

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In response to Three Line Tales, week 97, based on a photo by Bogdan Dada via Unsplash

Goodbye love

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I would have like to say that all I need is your love. But it isn’t.

Yes I need you to love me, but even more importantly, I need me to love me. I need to respect my desires, my work, my space, and my people.

I would have liked to say that you are my home. But a home on an island will eventually get lonely.

My home needs to have its special corners for my memories and my dreams. Its doors need to open wide to welcome my past and my future.

If loving me, requires saying goodbye to you, then goodbye my love.


Written for 100 Word Wednesday, Week 19, based on photo prompt by William Stitt

Catharsis

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I feel like an astronaut who after years aboard a space station has suddenly landed in a rainforest.

Space is beautiful, peaceful, and infinite. It is a manifestation of God’s power and magnificence. But space is also lonely and dark. Left alone for so long, there is a point at which you stop looking outwards and start looking inwards. Looking within oneself, discovering the self, and accepting the self, is the hardest journey to make, harder than going out to space. You are a powerful creature who has conquered space, but you are so much smaller than the many celestial objects floating around you.
With all our technology, we are but a blip on the radar.

The realm of the forest is the womb of life, alive, abuzz and all-embracing. Birdsong comes in lulls and bursts, the silence and the singing coming together like a timeless symphony. Scent from wild flowers mix with the damp and decay to create ever changing and exotic perfume that permeate your mind and soul. There is a riot of colours as sunlight peeps in through lush trees, landing gently upon shy shrubs. The forest is a manifestation of God’s love, his joyousness. It is a promise of resilience. Almost a forgiveness that gently holds you in its embrace, wipes away your tears, absolves you of your sins, your follies, and assures you that it’s all right. It can be fixed.
There is no need of protective gear here. No poisonous gasses choke me, no burning heat sears me.
I lay down my suit. I am light, unburdened, free. No longer alone, I dance with the peacocks and sprint with the deer. I am now a part of the intricate web we call nature.

All it took was the courage to break through the looking glass.

 


In Response to Michelle’s Photo-Fiction #85

Of the filament that endures

 

A woman must endure pain with a quiet dignity, like the filament in this bulb, that allows itself to burn so that it may illuminate the garden with glorious light,” he expounded haughtily, obviously pleased at his absurd allegory.

For your information a filament starts heating up and glowing only because it has a really high resistance, and it does not burn out, it slowly gets vapourised!” she retorted.
And that poor bulb can illuminate your stupid garden only if you don’t cover it up with your senseless obstacles and blockades and allow it to hang free.

 


In response to: Three Line Tales, Week 64
Photo by: Nick de Partee via Unsplash

The photograph

100WW

The man knew this would make the perfect picture.

Rays from a violet sky slithered over gentle mountains to dance delicately across the azure lake. A charming colonial lighthouse adorned the foreground.

Recalling the rule of thirds, he shifted his camera. Nah, the trees took up too much frame. Zoom in. His parents were setting up their picnic on the little bench. Why was his son standing alone? The boy was a mystery.

Anyway, back to selecting the viewpoint.

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Why choose a viewpoint rather than be the view, the boy wondered. In a quest to freeze a moment of life, why forget to live it!

 


In response to Bikurgurl’s photo prompt for 100 Word Wednesday, Week 15

Relationships

Have you ever found yourself in one of those relationships where you feel that you are the one who is doing all the giving?

Agreed, for a relationship to really work one needs to commit oneself to it, to invest yourself in it, to give of yourself. But in return, one needs to receive something too. Just giving becomes tiresome eventually, and then you reach a point where you start withholding a little, and the recipient on the other end of the connection realises that something has changed. The river is not as plentiful anymore. That brings in insecurity and the crack starts to widen.

The logical mind steps in and tries to compensate for the vacuum. It is not necessary that the person we do all this for, feel the same way about us. Giving is our choice and our choice alone. We have made this decision for a reason, and let’s be honest, that reason is usually something we do for ourself, even though often times we don’t recognise that. Stay in a marriage for kids or security. Stay in a friendship for social or other benefits. Stay with a parent because we feel we owe them.

Then there is perspective. Perspective changes everything. If you can truly empathise with the other person, you will realise that their picture is quite different from what you imagined it would be. From their perspective they ARE reciprocating. Often times what we receive is not what we had wanted to receive, so we just don’t realise that we have received anything at all!

It’s not simple to switch ‘thinking hats’ that completely and objectively, yet it’s something we should try.

But at the end of the day, it is only my perspective that directly affects me. The heart wants what the heart wants. It wants to get what it wants to get, and it wants to get back as much if not more. So there is this constant battle between your heart and your mind, and when the heart and mind are both yours, irrespective of who wins, you lose.

It takes a considerably evolved mind to be able to balance the two. Personally I don’t buy into the concept of ‘equal relationships’. It is human to push until we meet resistance. The push happens from both sides and on multiple fronts. Often the push is quite subtle. For a relationship to work, what is finally arrived upon is a ‘balanced relationship’. I take a little more of this, I give a little more of that. So once a balance is found, is it happily ever after? Hah… You wish! Just as the tectonic plates keep shifting, so to do our emotional planes. Nothing is more inevitable than change, and as we keep growing, changing, evolving, the process of finding that balance continues. The negotiations between the heart and mind continue. The search for moksha continues.

And with some people, I still feel that I’m doing too much giving!

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Written for Saturday Stream of Consciousness word prompt – give/given/giving

Unlimited

Their protests hum in my ears like the rumble of the engines.

Why can’t you stay somewhere close by?… How much freedom do you need?…

I look out the window and wonder, is there such a thing as too much sky?

 


Written for Three Line Tales with photo prompt by Brian Gaid via Unsplash

Breaking out

100WW

Shackles of words so often spoken shred my skin as I tear apart the thickets.

Act like a girl. Talk like a girl. You can’t do this. You shouldn’t do that. For years I have been defined by others, conformed to standards set by the patriarchs. I have been loved, but that love has always come with terms and conditions. Be strong but needy, brave but within constraints, be smart but don’t have opinions.

Enough.

I don’t know what’s out there for me. I may not make it, but I’ll fail on my own terms. I may never find that perfect soul-mate, but at least I’ll find me.

 


Written for Bikurgurl’s 100 Word Weekly Challenge for photo by Toa Heftiba

Cognizance

The blank page glowers at me from the screen. I revel in its vast emptiness. Here before me is the vessel that will hold my invaluable thoughts and words and preserve them, perhaps for posterity. But an awkward silence hangs in my head, stifled like a hot summer noon, twiddling its thumbs.

I jiggle the cursor around, making imaginary doodles on the page, trying to churn the vacuum, searching for the words that live on the edge of the precipice, but nothing comes to fruition.

The extraordinary, someone once said, was rarely found in the obvious, but in the hidden recess of what remained unconsciously observed and consciously unremarked.

I start typing, one word after another, filling the void with random thoughts, emotions spilling over from my imagination.

I pause to commune with my vessel and can almost feel the page’s disappointment at my feeble attempt. It had poised itself for loftier accomplishments, philosophical introspections, a classic novel or great poetry perhaps; instead all it had achieved in its short inglorious life was to have its virgin surface sacrificed to a novice’s ramblings, like untidy clothes strewn on a pristine floor. Its despondency is almost palpable.

I teeter in this fugue state until a sudden effervescence in the stream of time snaps me out of my cogitation.

I am the brightest star in my mind’s galaxy and I am OK with that.

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Her march

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She knew that others marched to make a statement, to make their voices heard, to show the powers that be that they would band together to defend their rights and beliefs. For some it was a Woman’s March, for others a Solidarity March, or even just a stand against autocracy.

But her goals were not that lofty.

Her fight was fore mostly against herself. She marched to free herself of the shackles of perceptions that her conservative upbringing had placed upon her. She marched to break down the walls of fear that she had built around her own heart.

She marched to free herself so that she could finally be free to march with her nation.

 


Written for 100 Words Weekly Challenge in response to photo by Stephanie of La Photographie