Artwork by Mohita Garg
Meet Me in Montauk The dirty chocolate brown trunks of the pine,
Emerald, Olive, greenish-jet black needle leaves
Spike in and out of the freshly fallen snow.
Like nunataks. On flattened winter highlands.
The screams in my head, filling the
void left for mourning over a death,
Are going back to their homes,
hidden in those winter highlands.
The anxieties and unreasonable
Midnight cries are taking a leave, whispering Goodbyes.
I'm afraid something has started to fade,
Like you can see the element called joy
In the pine forests where the snow sleeps.
I desperately try to cling to the memories
But the knife of reality slashes my back.
The red drips on white like profound sorrow.
So cold. So conspicuous. So calm.
I no more feel like floating in the
Thin air percolated in Sophocles' tragedies.
Your thoughts and words have been my
Constant saviour, my guide and my definition of love.
I can feel.
Your kind heart against the backdrop of cruel and merciless snow.
I was gone. You waited.
I press the dry flower you gave me
in between my palms,
Struggling to locate its lost fragrance.
I hear the Storm of Vivaldi getting farther
Like some river dying in the hidden woods.
I am losing myself and turning into nothing.
The faces and words I knew have become elusive.
An inkling suggestive of inevitable loneliness
Pricks my sense of existence in this dubious world.
I seek shelter in the writings of Kafka
But all I confront is a harsh remoteness.
The only thing I remember is you asked me to meet you
But my mind cannot remember where.
The world won't answer as it sleeps in silence.
And the books of poetries seem to be buried.
The sunlight no more spills like warm honey.
The wind now sounds like some whimpering ghost.
And that frozen river lost in the woods
Is struggling to flow again. Like her, I struggle and plead you.
If you know how to pluck the strings
Sing me a song that resonates in the hidden bay
Where the fog and the ocean paint a hazy picture on the grey rocks.
Or simply give indelible inking to my fears
Which I confessed the night before yesterday on the wintry shore.
The coldness kissing my concealed veins
Is tapping upon my heart with a vague promise.
I have to go and find that lone seashore
Where waves do not break nonchalantly.
There, maybe after years, I'd meet you
And my lost and forgotten memories.
If anything, you wanted me to heal and look at the brighter side.
I have accepted your healing advices.
I am willing to study colors and contradictions.
Colors no more terrify my unrest soul.
I am not a part of the Emission Spectrum.
I am neither falling down my levels
Nor radiating flames of profound sorrows.
I feel free like the spirit of seagulls.
Like a pixelating liberation, piece by piece,
I am letting go, the pain painted in
The strange whiteness of snowy and sequestered Cascades.
This is a beautiful process.
Like the process of breathing
And knowing that you are breathing with me.
If still, I fail to find the lone wintry seashore.
Just one last time. Find me and release all our old promises
And the memories that are trapped in our unconscious.
Not to let them go in vain.
But to make them come true.
About the artist:
Mohita Garg is a creative enthusiast and fashion stylist by profession. She has explored various styles through different materials and mediums and she is always on the lookout to try something new. Self-taught, Mohita began painting as a means of dealing with her inner turmoil caused by a near death experience. Her art reflects her dreams, her appreciation for the ordinary and her struggles and hopes. Art to her is conversation with the self. You can find her on Instagram @mohita.art
About the poet:
Paarmita Vedi is a 21 years old student who is passionate about writing on the themes of feminism, human relationships, grief and nature. Recently, she got herself enrolled in Delhi University for pursuing Masters in English Literature. In 2019, she self published her first book, a poetry collection, titled Moon and the Blue Waters. A literature enthusiast, she is an ardent admirer of mountains, sunflowers, John Donne and Sylvia Plath. You can find her on Instagram @paarmita_vedi