Patterns

It's easy to throw the anchor
With this warmth creeping up
Encroaching all inhibitions 
Changing all perceptions 
But I have sailed and stayed put
Held and deserted 
Recovered from pain 
Just to fall again! 

Claiming

And just like that
Unguarded I stood
Expecting nothing
Anticipations none
And you came in
From a long time ago
Claiming what's yours 
Triggering emotions
I had learnt to let go off

Intentions

When every step is calculated
We often assume the consequences
Expecting nuances from before 
Anticipating to be one more

These emotions as misleading
Come from a heart that's learnt its lessons
Knows its way around
Having roughed up here often

Myra

she came around as an ageless elegance. The only truth she knew then was that nothing mattered as long as she was in love. His presence was not as important as his essence. She always felt him, she always had him with her. In thoughts, words, actions & intentions. But it was effortless, even inspiring, this love or the illusion that kept her guarded against the world. It didn't matter. She had begun a journey of love and with challenges she hadn't foreseen or was prepared for. She fell in love with herself when she thought of being desired by him.

Everyday she realised she had to love a little harder to make up for the lack of love she felt. She enveloped herself in immense love, with a wall that allowed her to not break, crumble or fall. He was thankful because... he leaned on. Love ever so arranged between two, keeping company was natural, even in the lack of it. 

But before she could gather perseverance to grow her roots, she had already tasted too many soils. Love was just one chapter. What unrolled after was a mix bag of confrontations, frustrations, compassion, tragedy, recovery, and a redemption. And she never considered herself special and was agitated to reveal her journey, scared of judgments, feeling guilty for things she had no control over or had any intention to happen. Life unrolled mindlessly, leaving her unguarded and in a mess. She would pick herself up everyday to start another day, struggling to even go with the flow! Just floating was not meant for warriors like her. She was a survivor and that's what she did best... survive!

Love

There she goes blazing again
Unaware as she moves
Unguarded and careless 
Yet again
Skipping heartbeats on impulses 
Looking beyond the camouflage 
Ducking a little, missing the puddle
She opens her eyes, but only a little

"Is he blaming you for doubting him?"

"Yes. I feel bad, confused & a heaviness in my heart that I am unable to wade off"

"C'mon! It wasn't you...it was because of the situation you were in, you couldn't have reacted any other way "

"I guess you are right. I did feel instigated"

INSTIGATED.
Words have power, so we have heard more than once. but do we really believe it?
I end up accepting most uncomfortable situations by ensuring the blame is not on me. In fact, also would spend endless hours trying to crack the situation, by going into micro details, judging every aspect of the situation, analyzing, trying to look for the comfort of justification.

"She shouldn't have screamed...he shouldn't have made me feel that way... that man is very rude.... this girl should have manners... he has no idea... it's unfair... "

Our biggest fear, therefore isn't being subjected to injustice only, but to be sure that we are not to be blamed. The one who feels guilty goes through a tremendous pressure of evaluating his/her self worth.
'how can I be wrong? if what I believe is not true... So I just didn't assume!'

Its more or less like performance anxiety. The need to be right then becomes a necessary element of our being, making us capable of quick defenses and reactions. This never ending journey for the need to be right. Do we take enough time to ask the right questions?

But all our reactions and responses are only aggregate of what we have understood. Or should I say, limited to what we know... doubt is a reflection of unresolved issues within us.. One doesn't confuse curiosity with doubt. With doubt comes conviction, blame.