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Dear Wall

It feels discomforting to finally speak with you, quite honestly. We didn't think this would ever happen, maybe we wished it didn’t, but it’s nice to have an explicit conversation with you. It took me a while to realize the insidious power you hold over us, always up to your tricks. We feel your presence so much, you rear your head in our institutions, in our homes, in our relationships, in our bodies.

You make us feel angry, hot, pained, suffocated, isolated, confused, irritated and even laugh sometimes. Your presence makes us feel small, you sneak up in multiple ways, you build walls around human connections.

But then again, you make us want to be accountable to ourselves and each other. Know that our resistance reduces your influence bit by bit each moment, in our conversations, collective connections building a shield of compassion that takes in the arrows you shoot at us, whenever you like.

We are not small together.

Your power scares us, still, but in the same way, no more.

We are not small together.

In resistance

Us

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"neurons that fire together, wire together"

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"neurons that fire together, wire together"

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Influence not from power but from a place of caring

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Influence not from power but from a place of caring

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Being tentative and curious are my new favourite things!

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Is your favourite colour blue?
And do you always believe in the truth?
Do you believe in outer space?
Did someone take a portion of your heart?
Now I'm learning you

And if you don't mind can you tell me all your hopes & fears
And everything that you believe in
Would you make a difference in the world
I'd love for you to take me to a deeper conversation
Only you can make me....

I've let my guard down for you
And in time you will too

And if you don't mind can you tell me all your hopes & fears
And everything that you believe in
Would you make a difference in the world
I'd love for you to take me to a deeper conversation
Only you can make me....

"Deeper Conversations by Yuna"
P.S: Took away some lines that did not make sense

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I am the wound of multitudes, the multitude of wounds

For generations, an unfree individual in a free country

Having been the target

Of humiliations, atrocities, rapes and torture

I am someone raising his head for a fistful of self-respect

In this nation of casteist bigots blinded by wealth

I am someone who lives to register life itself as a protest

I am someone who dies repeatedly to live

Don't call me a victim

I am an immortal, I am an immortal, I am an immortal

I am the poison throated one

Who swallowed the famine so that the world may have wealth

I am the sunrise standing on its head

It was I who kicked the Sun on the head

To make him stand erect

I am the one stoking slogans in my flaming heart's furnace

I don't need words of sympathy or tears of pity

I'm not a victim, I'm an immortal

I am the fluttering flag of defiance

Don't shed tears for me

If you can

Bury me in the middle of the city

I'll bloom as the bamboo grove that sings the melody of life

Print my corpse as this nation's cover

I'll spread as a beautiful future into the pages of history

Invite me into your hearts

I'll become a tussle of conflagrations

And rise again and again in this land

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Imperfect allies,

happy together

in the wilderness

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want to feel what I touch
want to find what was lost
want to be kind

As you see every curse
And in a dream it'll work
Now you'll feel tied

want to praise with this life
And conceal without lies
I just need time

want to fight every need
Every push every string
Will you stand by?

I've been awake through the wrong decisions
I've held the ground now I'm gaining soul
I bit my tongue through the cold realizations
I've been accused but I've only begun

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Here I learnt to find community in myself, and then to commune with others. The true gift of learning. 💖

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Here I learnt to find community in myself, and then to commune with others. The true gift of learning. 💖

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Loitering with good intent on the edges of uncertain ground

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Loitering with good intent on the edges of uncertain ground

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What we name as anger is actually only the incoherent physical incapacity to sustain this deep form of care in our outer daily life; the unwillingness to be large enough and generous enough to hold what we love helplessly in our bodies or our mind with the clarity and breadth of our whole being.

Quote by David whyte

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Even feeling of pain is responding and an action.

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Buddy, we are here, together

Unpacking our hearts, learning and unlearning,

Listening to stories, one at a time.

Of meaning-making and scaffolding

We will we will get through x 2

A Mental Makeover

So many myths are bust

Learning a new way of life

Where nothing is a Must

Deep meaningful, reflections

Leading the way to new possibilities

Learning to accept diversity

With lots of Respect & Curiosity

It’s a never ending journey

Scaffolded by Maps

Re-authoring & Re-membering

Help fill the Gaps

Hoping for a World

Where We can just be equal

We willfight for equality x 2

We are all living stories,of resistance

Too much reading sometimes gets in the way

Finding new paths, creating new maps

To not reach a place but to find oneself, singing

We will we will find us x 2

Another moment of clarity

Another moment of Catharsis

forming mirage, gap closing in

A seeming utopian possibility singing

We will, we will rock you

We will, we will rock you

Buddy we are Drawing  Maps and territories,

Exploring Problem and preferred stories

Loitering, Reauthoring

our lives are living Narratives, singing-

We will, we will not forget you. X 2

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(Ayushma wrote this in one of the sessions, and I been saving it)

Fingers curl
and palms clench
into tight fists

to fight?

Knuckles turn white
drained of blood
only bones jutting out
like blunt knives
as if to say, “Dare you come near me.”

Some days are like this.

When the fist is not even
an invitation to spar.
In such a fierce proposal
is the knowledge
that no one will really be ready to take you on.

Clenched fists like these are like locked doors
like hearts inside bottles that simply don’t want to come out.

But everywhen is not like this.

Sometimes.

Sometimes
hands open, fingers unfurl
revealing soft flesh and gentle, bumpy terrains.

Sometimes
they want to wave and say hello
or open up to invite

Sometimes
they are ready to receive with the curving of the palms
whatever it is that will fall into them.

Sometimes
they want to hold
to wipe away tears
or push away the strands of hair coming between someone’s eyes and the world.

Sometimes
hands want to place themselves on hips
to dance and jive.

And sometimes
they want to count on their digits
all the things you can do with open hands.

Sometimes.

Just not today.

Today, hands can only fist up and beat like hearts inside impenetrable bottles.

Some days are like this.

And sometimes, that’s just fine.

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Where there is violence, there is resistance

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Where there is violence, there is resistance

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“Not queer like gay. Queer like, escaping definition. Queer like some sort of fluidity and limitlessness at once. Queer like a freedom too strange to be conquered. Queer like the fearlessness to imagine what love can look like…and pursue it.”

—Brandon Wint

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All I know

Is that “thank you” should appear

Somewhere.

So, just in case

I can’t find

The perfect place-

“Thank you, thank you.”

- Excerpt of Mary Oliver's Poem 'I have just said'

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On the day when
The weight deadens
On your shoulders
And you stumble,
May the clay dance
To balance you.

And when your eyes
Freeze behind
The grey window
And the ghost of loss
Gets into you,
May a flock of colours,
Indigo, red, green
And azure blue,
Come to awaken in you
A meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
In the currach of thought
And a stain of ocean
Blackens beneath you,
May there come across the waters
A path of yellow moonlight
To bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
May the clarity of light be yours,
May the fluency of the ocean be yours,
May the protection of the ancestors be yours.

And so may a slow
Wind work these words
Of love around you,
An invisible cloak
To mind your life.