Two Poems

the mind:

“The quieter you become the more you can hear”

-Ram Dass

 

between the eyebrows

 

a third eye

center of energy full

of vibrations

 

coming.

and going.

 

the drum quiets to a mere hymn, a hymn…hmmmh…OM

that connects her and Him

 

she closes her eyes, focuses

as the ocean waves approach to embrace

her and recede just as quickly

 

like the crinkles of worry on her forehead

 

breath in.

 

 

breath out.

it is always ourselves we find in the sea.


 what you’d find buried in the dirt under mercy hospital (gilbert, arizona)

deflated balloons:

pink. “It’s a girl!” discarded

after a miscarriage. hollow. like the crying mother’s

empty womb.

crumpled prescription slips for the same drugs issued before

they still don’t work. worthless.

 

nurse uniforms that reek of latex gloves. rusty blood. and

dried tears

expired free meal vouchers from family members tired

of eating cold pizza in the cold cafeteria.

a worn out rosemary bead necklace once strung

on a strong necklace as strong as the woman’s faith who prayed for her wounded boy.

the beads are b r o ken. the woman’s faith? is not. praying

night and day

 

crushed sleeping pills from the emergency doctor’s pockets

couldn’t leave the emotional turmoil of his night shift in the e.r.

brought it home with him

bloodshot eyes.

 

a wristwatch that stopped working.

after a surgical resident pronounced his first patient dead.

time of death 2:19. but her mangled body looks so serene.

 

index cards outlining stroke treatment procedure. blankets crocheted by grandmas. grey chairs matching the drab

waiting room walls. flower bouquets from the store

fresh. wet.

 

a faded mother teresa portrait

eyes still shining. bright. with love.

 

and the makeshift plastic volunteer shift leader badge

that i once donned with a sense of pride

i couldn’t explain.


Gayatri Sadachar is a huge neuroscience nerd and a women’s rights activist in the making. She’s just a brown girl with big dreams who loves to dance, read and bookmark multiple cooking blogs (even though she knows she’s too lazy to try the recipes). Her Friday evenings consist of endless laughs with family and a mug filled with her brother’s famous chai. 

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2 thoughts on “Two Poems

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