7 July 2011

Those Who Do Not Remember History

To love,
(and be loved in return)?
Breathtaking happiness
Quiet contentment
A slice of heaven on earth.

A whispered word, a loving touch
Hot, sultry afternoons reading, limbs entangled
pages bookmarked by stolen kisses
Laughter and tears and aching goodbyes
Two parts of one whole.

Long letters plighting troth, sweet nothings
interspersed with banal talk of weather
separations endured 'until next time'
for one is loved; one is sure.

To love,
(knowing you are not loved)?
Heartwrenching misery
Dante's Purgatory and Inferno
all rolled into one living Hell.

'I miss you' 'I love you' 
sought no response
God knows 
any hope of reciprocity
was long renounced.
Yet to ignore
these feelings
like they do not exist
like emotions are untidy and need to be put away
like nothing matters...

For there was no warning
that the less you ask for
Indeed! the less you get.

What keeps 
this love burning white-hot 
that unending tears
do not douse them
nor the hurt armour a fragile heart
nor rational mind see
there is no hope 
but still
keeps hoping, hoping, hoping...
despite all odds?
"The heart has its reasons 
whereof Reason knows nothing."

What then, is left?

for those who do not remember history
are doomed to repeat it.

Innocence and Experience
Watcher and Watched
The one, mask firmly in place,
no emotions allowed.
The other, having known
the fury of the storm
there are no emotions left.
One watches from without 
as the other dies within.
But, tell me
Which the watcher
and which watched?

© Anuradha Warrier


  1. I feel like a voyeur. It's embarrassing to read such naked emotions. Yet, your writing is so lyrical, so meaningful. I say again - please think about publishing.


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