MEGHA SOOD

MEGHA SOOD

PURE

Those bony and scrawny fingertips

scrubbing and scouring every

single piece

of dust and soot

nestled between my toes

and puny soles

imbues me with the

moonlight sheen

and the milky smell I was born with

You slowly and surely scrub my

anger, pain and hurt away

to let in dissolve

in that turbid water

when the plethora of emotions

are birthing every second in your mind

as you fervently look for the

scars,

small scratches,

you might have overlooked

As gently as the seraphic touch

on my nimble body

which you have sculpted and nourished

every bit of it

you dissolve every pain

in the small bowl

you wash me in

For every other soul

it is a mundane task

but

for me,

when you touch me

with your fecund fingertips

it baptizes me and

renders my soul pure

Your touch,

my mother,

renders me pure. 

(First Published in Visual Verse Vol 5)

NOTHING

How the feeling of emptiness devours

and takes me in

like an empty nest

and a hole in the ground

an empty den of the fox

with just loneliness gazing around

an unclaimed body

lying in the morgue..sleeping

without the

rush to being claimed or otherwise

Oh! how the  emptiness seeps and seeks me

with the stories of yore

with phantom pain filling my pores

An old abandoned hut

covered with vines and creeps

in the middle of the farmland

waiting to be lived in

a beautiful nursery with

matching color crib and that mobile

tinkling to the sound of desertion

and those

patterned unused blankets

folded and tucked neatly

left in the pile

in the corner

to be donated

so it can be forgotten

Bearing a load of a heavy heart

a heart empty

scraped and scratched of any emotion

Uninhabitable

not good for any more use

No sun

No sunlight

and the shadows  are empty

with nobody behind

A close look at my palms and

those lines have left me.

Oh! how the feeling of emptiness

fills and devours

everything in me.

(First Published in Modern Literature)

 

ABERRATION

I’m an aberration,

An anomaly,

A certain twist in the tale

How do you feel when you masks peel off in layers?

and every time you shred your pain and misery

You see more layers forming underneath

Like the layers of the onion

Like the countess scab you have

been picking

/but it seems useless/

Like the constant poking of the needle

can’t seem to find the splinter lodged

deep seeded in your soul

The candle in your room is weeping

with both ends burning

And you are trying to reach the end of this abyss

When your spindly legs

Are those of the moth

Trapped in the spider’s web

And somewhere someone is tightening the grip on you

Can you feel it by the absence of every

wheezing breath?

That moth is you.

(First Published in Literary Yard)

MEGHA SOOD

MEGHA SOOD lives in Jersey City, New Jersey. She is also a contributing author at GoDogGO Cafe, Candles Online, FVR Publishing, Whisper and the Roar and Poets Corner.Her works have been featured in GoDogGoCafe, Whisper and the Roar, Duane Poetree, Visual Verse, Vita Brevis, Poets Corner, Modern poetry, Spillwords Press, Indian periodicals, Literary heist, Little Rose Magazine, The Quiet Corner, Writer's Cafe Magazine, and coming up in Modern Literature, KOAN(Paragon Press), Dime Show review and many more. She recently won the 1st prize in NAMI NJ Dara Axelrod Mental Health Poetry contest. She blogs at https://meghasworldsite.wordpress.com/.