Vidya Hariharan is a manic reader and traveller. In her spare time, she wrestles with crossword puzzles. Some of her work can be found on Poem Hunter, Setu, Poetry Superhighway, Muse India’s Your Space, Glomag, Café Dissensus, Borderless, Poems India, Pan Haiku Review, Contemporary Haiku Online and Under the Basho. Her poems Beauty and Open Heart Surgery have been selected as Editor’s Pick for July and September 2024 respectively. She also won the Editor’s Choice Award for her haiku from Under the Basho in 2024.
Breakdown
It hits you in the middle of the road,
Mid-step, in broad daylight, cars
Whizzing by, honking angrily.
You force your reluctant feet
To move out of the way,
With blurry eyes you watch
As pedestrians push past you.
Nothing sinks in, in your current state.
Someone warned you this would happen,
The tears will flow, the grief will come,
When you least expect it, striking deadly
Like a punch in the gut, debilitating.
Can I sit here and weep by the streetlamp,
Rest my weighty head on the lap of night
With my back against the smooth metal
And let my pent-up tears run and wet my neck?
Oh, I forgot to bring a handkerchief this morning.
Didn’t foresee a breakdown in the evening.
His face was turned to the wall, away from me
When he breathed his last. did he reject me?
Why did we argue? I am an impatient bitch.
Unaware of my moans and splutters I weep
Into my cupped hands, with pale fingers
Pressing my eyes, my forehead pleated with grief.
Remembrance
Cooking scents fill the air,
Father is at it again,
Loaded counters gleam,
The kitchen is off limits,
But grandkids sneak out
With icing on their chin,
Moms gather in the garden
Share their tales of old,
Dads sort the Christmas tree
Sharing in the camaraderie,
While Mother smiles on
From her picture on the mantel.
