My body is silent
I feel it balancing tone
And muting all conversation
Of pain or fatigue

Slowly the silence creeps into
The space around me
Where I catch it
In intervals of sound

It is glorious
And vast
And rich
Though small

My ears begin to catch
Internal sounds
The sounds of my heartbeat
The sound of my breath

Until they set a slow pace
And move with the molecules
That help them
Become silent.

This is where I can find you
Where my brain can no longer control
The way you enter it
With noiseless footsteps

I hear my heart speed up
My breath quickens
Will you break this space
Expecting words to fill it up

I wait and watch apprehensively
You sit beside me,
You begin to share
The silence with me

This is where I feel you
Without touching
Connect with you
Without words

An interval of no control
Of vulnerability
Where silence deepens
Amplifying senses

This is where you become
A part of me
Where love is born
And a moment, becomes eternal.

Neha Kothari

The part of me that expresses itself through words or art is the one that never grew up. I always had a brush, colours, a pen, chalk in my hand as a child.

I fell in love with literature when I heard Shakespeare being recited — on audio tapes. I used to play them before sleeping, and listen to poetry and literature — and so much more — come alive.

I started expressing experiences, mine or others, through words and published my first book when I was 14. My Dad insisted that I learn how to present my work and get it published. That year was a year of learning. Of illustrations, of approaching people and understanding finer nuances of getting my work out in the open. Out of my small diary, magnified and exposed.

Poetry reminds me that though life can be hard, we have a tremendous capacity to be vulnerable. And in that lies an unmatched strength.




Poetry by Neha Kothari

Were you looking for long? You can always find me Where? Oh you can find me where the blues meet. Look into the sifting clouds And follow their path You...
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On Being Ninety

Poetry by Knute Skinner

The clown is quieter now, but somewhere in the back of my closet is a large red nose. I try to keep on the move, but at times I find...
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My longing has many faces

Poetry by Maura Horkan

The sad one who feels it can never be and cries big salty tears into the garden The other one who moves slowly around the many tasks to be done...
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सब लुट गया तो क्या, तू अब भी है

Poetry by Omendra Ratnu

सब लुट गया तो क्या, तू अब भी है, अँधेरी रातों में तेरी महक अब भी है !   टूटती नहीं ये खुमारी क्या करें, वजूद में मेरे घुली मिली,...
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