Born in Battles

 I am born of fury, 

I was born in bloodshed. 

In some corner of the world 

I reincarnate as Death. 

No choosing, no right or wrong 

No age or religion, or caste 

I seek blood and I draw it 

Causes mingled and morality at stake; 

Battles won and lost in the struggle for those 

Who is up in the high chairs yet 

The sufferings are of those stampeded below 

The weight of power.

I am born from battles, 

They created me to balance the good and bad.

Yet when wars are fought, 

It all becomes just stories.

Versions of the truth, 

Yours and theirs.

False hopes and assurance 

That wars are inevitably good 

For humankind seeks the blood of its own 

Pretending they are different. 

You hope history doesn't repeat.

You hope battles spare children and women

Who becomes pawns in your ego games

But nothing changes, does it?

Era after era the stories repeat,

And you pray harder every day.

Irony is, you worship me for peace 

When I am the Goddess of war.

© Suranya

Entwine

 This is not the first time 

We met at the crossroads of life. 

I feel it as deeply as you do.

I recognised your eyes. 

As soon as they met mine, 

There was a similar longing in them 

To know, to touch, to feel, and hear. 

As if we have been doing so for eras now 

The familiarity of your scent 

Which I otherwise can't recognise 

The comfort in your breath 

That gives me warmth in the snowy night.

And then I watched you extend your hand to me 

As if to say, hold on to me now, 

I have waited long enough 

Travelled through cities and time 

To reach out to you.

And I do, expecting the touch to be electric. 

Instead, there is a sense of mundanity. 

My heart skips a beat. 

For I have never felt this familiarity in my life

Our fingers entwine as we walk. 

Silently through the busy street.

To most onlookers, we are lovers, 

To those who know, strangers, 

To us, soulmates tied by an invisible string.

But does it ever have to make sense? 

Belief, fate, destiny, miracles and tragedies?

We are just living our stories, 

Our strings are being pulled by the Universe.

We meet. We separate. 

We become friends. 

Lovers. Strangers.

We play our parts and often find what we seek.

Sometimes we don't until 

We start seeking something else. 

Someone else.

"We are always searching 

For someone, something, 

Somewhere to belong."

No rhyme or reason to our lives 

Yet we live on, continue to walk alone, 

Or holding on to each other 

Till another crossroad of life.

Your name doesn't matter now 

Our souls are carving an eternal saga.

I can feel the quill of fate at work. 

As I see you smile at me, 

I wish never to leave the fingers 

Those are entangled in mine.

© Suranya