Eight stitches

fight_between (1)

‘An open wound’

I dragged a blade of grief along, 

Until it slit a wound for some to flog

I let righteousness rock my boat

Only to be pushed off my shore.

When lie wedded greed to dare

I smashed my urn of worldly care

Restraint, indeed, you are real strong,

Your camaraderie though did me wrong.

  • The above is my amateurish attempt at poetry. I used to do this a long time ago, say 30 years. I never got it right then, not sure I will get it right now. But it is sort of liberating, this first attempt. It is just a few random lines, which may not fit into any definite category. But it’s original, and it’s mine, and I shamelessly own it with all its flaws. :)

It’s WAR then!

war 1

How much is too much?

I was considering this question for over a month.

A close relative (technically) had been bitching about me and MINE, calling us names, abusing, not sparing even my just widowed mother. Slander had become her favorite tool. She would call up and verbally abuse my 70-year-old mom, even accuse her of the unthinkable.

I read spiritual texts, listened to calming music, practiced yoga and meditation. They worked partly. I focused on my writing. It helped somewhat.

But she continued uninterrupted.

I forgave her, ignored her rubbish talk, prayed she be talked out of her craziness, waited for her to recover, realize, repent…

Initially, I thought all she needed was medication, a few months in the psychiatric hospital and she would be fine.

But no, her attacks rather intensified, encouraged, and supported by her family, and probably some losers she considers “friends”.

Then my relatives started calling me up, saying my silence was fueling her abusive behavior. They said it was all about money. I wasn’t sure it could be a materialistic motive that made her want to fall so low.

18ixhvts900nejpgI lost my cool a day back, when a relative called me to say this woman was spreading crap about my people, which could permanently brand them social outcasts. And I knew, that was it. I couldn’t allow my patience to be the reason for my people to suffer. I had to do something. And I did.

I called up her husband and told him to get her back to senses or treat her. If not, I would be compelled to seek court intervention to get her into a health facility, for she has crossed the line of acceptability by a million miles.

I hope they get it right this time. For, certainly I have run out of patience. And I mean WAR.

Anger, Charge of Irascibility