I sat with my feelings for a week
and took a chance on shifting from
5-8s to 3-12s, rotating weekends.
Everything in my body says,
“Pray for this job, two days off
during the week one week, then
four days off during the week the next
is what you need.”
A smooth transition. Perhaps?
An easy transfer. Who knows?
But, I didn’t want to
fight myself later
for not taking a chance
just in case I actually get it.
Niharika Gursahani (via WordPress) is our youngest contributor. She found out about the Young Minds of Medium How Do You Sing The BluesCall via A Cornered Gurl on WordPress and emailed me to see if she could contribute even though, she is slightly younger than the minimum age requirement for YMOM. After reading a few of her pieces on WordPress and her draft for this call, it was BEYOND easy to make an exception. And now, the featured piece:
The Rhapsody of The Blues
Young Minds of Medium “Blues Call”
An archaic tune plays over the dusty radio,
Reminds me of a dwindling duet I almost forgot a second back,
Every cosmic binder of the universe,
Wants me to never forget the rhapsody of our love.
Our rhapsody was melodious,
The tune was full of life,
And the lyrics of this rhapsody,
Were the loving letters I wrote to you.
This rhapsody hit me hard,
But somewhere in the lyrics, we drift apart,
And the bridge we built with committed chords,
Collapsed as you broke the guitar strings.
This rhapsody was our lovers’ call,
I sang it and it beckoned you to me when I needed you,
And you followed my voice and sang along and gave me comfort,
But now when my ears sense this tune of the Blues,
They bleed a stream of shattered love.
And I scream louder than breaking glass.
Pillows don’t comfort me the way I was comforted,
When I cried into your arms and soaked your shirt in those tears,
My pillow only absorbs my pain but doesn’t relieve me of it,
The way you did when your chest was my only pillow.
I can hear your voice hiss through the corridors of my brain,
Corridors painted your favorite colour with our pictures hung up on the walls,
With this now irritable rhapsody playing in the ballroom of my mind,
Which is my destination to be in hallucinations,
When drowning in insomnia,
Dreaming of you in my arms,
Dancing an endless dance.
I can’t sing a note anymore,
My throat is blunt of unspoken words,
The rhapsody of our love burns me down to a soulless spirit,
And this spirit can’t survive with her soul anymore.
You are my soul.
I can’t sing the Blues anymore,
Because you tore apart my vocal cords.
Pain is the only note I can produce,
But now I have a heart of stone and a spirit devoid of love,
Which has no voice of its own.
I can never cease my love for you,
You are my life and you are my death,
And now that the rhapsody has lost its life,
I dream of only death,
As I gulp down a handful of pills,
Drug me of a faraway fantasy,
This fantasy which I can only achieve,
With the sacrifice of my present life.
And the pills start their deadly effects,
As my body slowly turns into stone-like my heart,
I am nothing but a mere corpse,
As grim darkness crawls up to the ceiling walls,
And as the noises intensify of the dead spirit’s desperate insanity,
I still hear over the drunken voids, Rhapsody which still plays over the dusty radio.
how’d I get eighteen years with you?
what resolve must it have taken
for you to watch the years pile up
and embrace us without flinching?
I am not the easiest person to love,
but can’t we all say this?
can’t we all confess that loving,
truly loving someone through
the thick of it all takes patience
and a will that cannot be broken?
I thank God for your resilience —
your ability to trip an off-putting person
in three seconds flat without batting
your words attacking them, but not
cutting them down.
you don’t do low blows.
you hit them where it hurts
while offering them the opportunity
to rethink their actions and govern
themselves accordingly for future rapport.
it has been an honor to stand by your side
and watch you take flight each year —
shifting into something new.
you wear change well —
a human chameleon coloring
up my world.
the battles I fight now come
fully equipped with love,
guidance, and understanding.
I am never alone.
the task to grow with someone
and allow yourself to morph
into what you must become without
losing the bond created years ago
is a hard one.
friendship is a gift — an
ever-blooming present that
is priceless, but . . .
there will be obstacles.
there will be setbacks.
how strong will you be when
the fists landing on your nose
are liable to break it?
I pose this question to anyone
thinking friendship is easy — something
you achieve without work.
don’t be fooled.
nothing worth keeping
is easy to obtain.
the best of friends show you
who you are when others
only want to remind you
who you were.
they pull the chair out
for you in your corner,
splash your aching face with water,
gauze your mouth, and tell you
there’s more fighting to do.
and if they have to,
they get in the ring
with you: fists up, feet swiftly
playing the canvas,
arms extended — punching alongside you.
they invested in you
when you made a full withdrawal
on yourself —
they see your value.
she knows my worth.
“I don’t need a friend who changes when I change and who nods when I nod; my shadow does that much better.” – Plutarch
Nour is an exceptional young one whom I have had the pleasure of watching grow on Medium. Over the last eight months, this young one has broken out of her shell and is sharing her life and experiences with us.
Tainted blue creeps in,
An armed looming shadow that threatens,
Look fiercely into its eyes, impassive
Let the ink embrace your heart, squeeze the venom out on paper,
Chase down freedom with your words.
How the story unfolds sometimes. So many lies embedded in between the lines and I foolishly believe. Destruction calling my bones for release of its pent up anger. Seeping its sorrow on my pages, adding lines. And my brain does nothing but smirk in approval, unwinding me to the core. Now all the chaos — thrown at my feet, no sealing to its mouth that keeps running.
I keep falling down.
Entirety is disarming sometimes.
Disapproval clawing its way in my mind,
Smitten by blues, add more salt to her wounds … if only you’ve done this. If only you were this …
Just stop. Press pause, go on rewind your tape and you’ll see where it starts:
All. In. Your. Fucking. Head.
I hold still for a moment. Let the truth sink in. So many inviting claws I struggle to dodge.
Oh, how it’s easier to fall into depression … but will you let in temptation?
And that’s how it starts. I breathe my screams out on paper, rewrite the story …
I change lines.
The claws are no longer inviting. ‘Cause no hunter falls for their prey.
The lies fade back to their dimension, this territory ain’t going to be stained.
I don’t pause. I keep going. Destruction no longer smirks.
Entirety could be disarming … unless between the lines you checked again.
For the rest of this month and into the first two weeks of December, I will be featuring contributing writers who answered the Young Minds of Medium“How Do You Sing The Blues” submission call.
Fatima Mohammed is a recently added contributor to A Cornered Gurl and this challenge is what prompted her to reach out to me. I have selected her piece entitled, “Feel These Feelings” because that’s exactly what it makes a reader do–feel what she’s saying. This young one is making quite the name for herself on Medium by being expressive, raw, and brutally honest. And now, her featured work:
Feel These Feelings
Young Minds of Medium “Blues Call”
i stare at it,
it stares back.
all those feelings,
ignored and unacknowledged.
all those little nothings
to become this thing
staring back at me
from the mirror.
i raise a hand,
so does it.
i blink an eye,
it does the same.
it looks so much like me.
but with eyes devoid of joy;
i strike up a conversation.
ask why it’s here
looking at me with sad eyes.
it says it’s tired of being ignored.
it wants to be acknowledged.
i stare at it,
it stares back.
then the life-altering realisation hits me
with such an intensity.
this thing with sad eyes,
all the feelings i don’t feel,
i hide in a box in my mind;
it’s become so big,
it’s filled up every inch of me.
i’m the one with the sad eyes.
when i feel blue,
i don’t want to hide these feelings
in my attempt to be positive and optimistic.
if i do,
i’ll have those sad eyes forever;
so when i feel blue,
i choose to have those sad eyes.
only for a moment though.
to let go,
i allow myself
to bask in the sadness
to feel these feelings.