POETRY : Bell Jar by Shilpa Sasidharan

Here we go again, diving deeper in the remains 
What is it that makes her crawl back from the ashes?
Hope
Embers of which keep her awake

Days, nights, blood moon days - they all seem alike
Juxtaposition of worlds, impeccable layers on sale
Spirit animal? Phoenix, she prescribed 
Array of unwelcomed guests forged deeply onto her mind
Fictitious ones, stayed longer some nights
Vulnerability blazed her soul
Resistance; she chose that lie
Even Sylvia Plath would want a bell jar version of her
Of various other versions yet to be discovered

Decibels of blur voices amidst which a kind man, she encountered 
He had a certain aura, even her lie faltered
The heart took the plunge; mind yelped, “No!”
Who could resist the tenderness of love?
Mind turned frivolous, body so coy
Bewitched by a mix tape of agony
She made him wrench with her

There was a family - unique
House of shackles, excuses and mediocrity, while they cordially ambushed her in the face
Day after day, the misery only multiplied 
Bridges made more concrete than ever
Paradoxes made
No wonder banality is so common
It’s convenient, you mime till you pry and cry
Read till you fall asleep in your blanket of frailty
Paint your miseries, write your fallacies onto her canvas
Succumb to the anguish

However 
It dawned, it was time for her to crawl back from ashes of what remains
Another leap of faith, another phoenix to rise
A chimeric one, sauntering since a while

Sombre burrows yet to fill
A gentle prod of iridescence, could help
Between the greys and blues, a hint of orange
As she gasped for some light through furniture and paints
Reluctant of letting go, she drops the ashes, she held onto so tight
Nebula of memories now engulfed the soul
Uncertain but wilful, ephemeral was her bliss
Brazen with a gash of longing
A faint ache was eminent but the orange remained
Few feathers withered; will stayed strong
The cadence of un-gingerly rhythms were now music to her ears
Surrounded by chimes of unnerving events, the bell jar was opened
Forgone are the ashes, stardust is what keeps her awake.

About the poet
A trademark monitoring analyst by profession; brevity keeps Shilpa on her toes and chai satiates her woes. Expression and vulnerability are her strengths and poetry allows her the freedom to communicate both. Apart from poetry; dance, music, painting and reading are other forms of expression she pursues. If she ever could meet Virginia Woolf, Shilpa would want her to know that her favourite word is 'miasma' and that she has an affinity towards wood.