A place on my body

Napowrimo day-1

April 1, 2021

My body is currently out of shape
and I wish I could contort
and twist and make it elastic,
like a rubber band.

But then my daughter suddenly
wants to draw, her brush beginning
to stroke gently the steering boat that
is my lower lip, commencing from
where the cascading teeth stop to flow,
downstream, flowing smoothly
through the waddling waves of my waist’s
stretch marks when suddenly
a reddish-orange sun
promisingly peeps in an East-West direction
through freshly fragrant
marudhani/ henna leaves
of my palm and fingers.

Nearing the coast, there are black pebbles
of moles and blue birds perch
in assembled veins across
brown branches from outstretched arms.

It completes the picture.

All notions of shape and size disappear
into vacuum when I am the universe
to her.

Copyrights @Brindha Vinodh

Breast Cancer/ Hopes

Two hills and a valley in between, breasts
of her.
One hill gradually grows into a mountain
of oozing fountain,
bleeds from Cancer,
drifts the valley from the flow
of indifferent undercurrents. She is earth and

a woman at that, the
uneven hilly mountains are but tiny specks of
her huge body of landscape.
Bleeding’s been her
way of life,
integral from inception.
Indelible cuts crisscrossing
her brownish black
thickets of hair, her head
is axed from blades of
chemo currents.

Yet she survives,
survives from grit and fortitude,
to cope with hope, her
mantra of resilience.

Not always is death immortal.

Copyrights @Brindha Vinodh