Friday, July 1, 2022





So heavy with emotions,

like a hard rock, pulling me down

to the depths of the ocean of woes,

tearing through the half-healed wounds.


The moment I utter or type them,

I feel a little lighter,

like a melting iceberg.

But, do they carry the same weight

upon reaching you

without losing any on their transit

from my lips to your ears?

from my fingertips to your eyes?


I fear the weight might multiply

to add to yours

For I would regret if I transfer

the burden of my weight onto you

So, I refrain from uttering or typing.




You are unimaginably important to me,

more than your fragile ego is to you.


I derive happiness observing the beautiful you

shunning your shield though seldom.


I have all the memories stored in me,

so safe and fresh deep down in my heart


I would wish you all the happiness that

you get from holding tight to that shield of yours.


Your happiness is more important to me

than mine. So, stay happy with it, always.


But I wonder why you need

a shield even with me


why with me?

But I shan't ask you that

for your shield might not guard you

against the hurt of the why.


Extended Existence


What is the purpose of your existence?

How will you,

who knows not to live for yourself,



What happened to you who never learned

to enjoy life to the fullest, nor please others?


Always, lived for others, thought for others,

and lived others' lives

in fiction or in realtime

yet, so organically

like grass shoots out of the Earth.


Is life even worth living, you ask.

Does life cease to be,

for you,

who knows not how to live?

Then, what is the purpose of your existence?


Even a mayfly with a day of life span has its purpose

and will it even know if another day was granted to it?

Won't it be confused by the intent behind it,

what a pain will that be for the mayfly?

Not to be done and gone with the mundane life.


Who said one needs to be grateful for breathing, living?

Existing on Earth has never been this hurting-heavy. 

Like lugging a colossal cross on a fragile shoulder.

Art of music, literature, or painting takes a little of that off your shoulder.




JAYANTHI SANKAR: Been in several international panels, Jayanthi Sankar’s novel ‘Misplaced Heads’ was on the Eyelands Book Awards 2020 final list of historical fiction. Dangling Gandhi, her short story collection won the short story in 2020 International Book Award -American book fest and The Literary Titan award. If not creating literary art, or reading you will find her in the nature reserves of Singapore. Born and brought in India, she lives in there since 1990.


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