Unfortunate /Kamalika Bhattacharya

Unfortunate

Kamalika Bhattacharya

We are so unfortunate —

we cross the borders of nations,

yet fail to cross

the walls within our minds.

We learn to conquer the world,

but never ourselves.

We live for others,

forgetting how to live for our own hearts,

afraid that loving ourselves

will be named selfishness.

We treasure others’ opinions,

and slowly bury our own worth.

In the end,

nothing remains

but questions —

burnt quietly into ashes.

Nature takes back what it once gave,

but our unlived dreams stay lost forever.

How unfortunate we are —

when life’s only true purpose was love,

yet love was always postponed,

always sacrificed,

always left behind.

🍂

You Are Held

If pain has made a small storm

inside you tonight,

and every breath is a wave

breaking on a shore

I cannot reach,

close your eyes for a moment

and come where I am.

Not in distance—

distance is only a stubborn map—

but in the quiet place

where your name rests inside me.

Imagine my hand in yours,

not to heal—

I have no magic

for wounds I cannot see—

but to remind the pain

it is not the only thing holding you.

Imagine my presence

drawing slow circles

on the edge of your suffering,

whispering to your heart,

easy… easy… I am here.

If I could,

I would steal the ache into myself,

hide it between my ribs

where it could do no harm to you.

Since I cannot,

I am sending you warmth instead—

the warmth of all the times

I have spoken your name with care,

the warmth of all the silences

where I have loved you

without saying it.

Let it rest on you

like a gentle cloth in the dark.

Let it tell you

you are held, even now.

And when the night feels the heaviest,

listen carefully—

between one heartbeat and the next,

that is where I am,

loving you

until the pain

forgets

its way home.

Be the Mountain 

Do you remember ,

once you said,

you and I

are also a group?

I never asked

for your whole day.

How could I!

when you already live

inside my every moment?

I do not demand time,

I only wish to be

a spring,

quietly flowing through you,

keeping your tired earth cool.

Let the others take your hours,

I will take

your silence.

Wash your weary eyes

in my clear water—

and rest.

We do not need eyes to see,

only a mind

open enough

to feel.

You say you are hollow and

weak,

broken by giving,

then be the mountain.

Let me be the spring

that does not ask the mountain to love it,

only to bear it—

as it flows,

as it sings,

as it stays.

Always filling you,

always returning to you,

as love.

Keep It

Return the sorrow,

do not let it turn to poison in your dark.

The moon, too,

never keeps

the light it borrows,

it quietly gives it back to the earth,

becoming silver comfort

beside someone’s pain.

But love

do not return love.

Keep it like breath within you,

and you will see—

one day,

even in the salt sea of your tears,

it will become

a pearl of joy.