h a i m i s h

⁵

The wave that consumes all

Sometimes you sit,

and you wait,

and you see,

that the trees are green,

and the buds are blooming,

and the squirrels are squibbling

and everything's moving,

so sit and wait , and let the wave

take you in, cause there's nothing
it doesn't consume.

And maybe it's for the good,

and maybe it's not,

maybe the wave ends where

there's no one to witness

and it thrashes you against a rock

over and over again, and when

you say stop, maybe it takes you

to a tiny little cave where no one

hears you scream and it coaxes

you to believe there's nothing wrong

when you see your blood split

on the walls and over and over,

you muffle your cry and you

close your eyes, but you smell it all,

the blood and the buds and the squibs

and the greens, and still you let

the wave gut you one more time till

you fall and when the water

takes you away, and the foam tingles

in your fingers, when the music

beats in your wounds, you let it all

happen because the wave consumes
all,

and maybe it's for the good

and maybe it's for the bad.

«________»

I was going through my drafts the other day, and I found this. And I have to be honest, I don't ever remember writing this. This poem has me awed, and also confounded. I can vaguely remember having a little free time and jotting this down, but coming back to it, I wasn't expecting that I'd be looking at something that was actually coherent and sturctured. moved by this.

I don't know if it's the typical way of going about poetry, but because I literally don't even REMEMBER ever writing this in my right mind. I feel like this poem is up for interpretation even when I myself am it's poet aha. XD

Anyway I kind of know what state I was in around the time I wrote this. It was this kind of spiralling thing, where everything around you is happening, life is going on for everyone, daily rituals. Work, and college, and studies and school, and friendships, and drama, and just the usual way of life. Some thing extravagant has happened in someone's life, and they're happy, whereas something comparatively sad has happened to someone else and they're sad about it, just the usual process of these kind of things,

through this all, I was stuck in this sort of a vaccum where even when I was around so many people who were happening and eventful, I was kind of empty not in a sad tragedic way, but in a 'I have no idea way',

I wasn't necessarily clueless because even when you're clueless you still have a sort of realization right? That you're clueless about something. I . . . was just there, just swaying around with the flow, just going about with whatever was happening with me. That's how I came up with the thought of 'the wave that consumes all' I was in this I don't care anymore, let whatever happens happen, I'll accept anything, I don't care sort of phase.

I felt like life had been muted for me, I could see people, their mouths moving, hands gastiuclating, time passing, colours changing from day to night, but I wasn't necessarily registering it, I had sort of gone sentimentally dumb and it was kind of hard. . .? I don't know now.

And all of it just happens. You'll still feel hungry, you'll still feel tired, and you'll be slotted in this void of inexplicable sadness, and it'll all just be there. And then one day, as perhaps a moment of clarity, you'll be out of it, and you'll blink and everything is making noise again. And at that time, when you're through the wave, and the current has carried you across . . . that time has passed, that time of vaccumed spiralling and at the end of that time, maybe it's good, and maybe it's bad. Maybe all that time that passed has helped, because it has passed at last. And maybe that passage of time has just resulted in lots of missed opportunities and wasted potential, and you'll never get it back. Annnnd I don't know, that's it. :)

Ignore spelling mistakes, I'm naturally inept when it comes to spellings and I've just written this down, the way I know my past self would have written this poem, (at the spur of the moment), without ever going to the top to revise. Yep bye