Holes

she punches my eye blue
a toe nail, storing clotted blood
remains black for months
after she drops a heavy vessel
on it

the reflex to strike back
that I never tamed
and always gave back to the world
I now withhold with caution

count, breathe, seethe. don't act
she doesn't know it hurts,
sees me in pain and hugs me
still confused about what she did
it is always a game for her

yet, when all hell breaks loose
for the umpteenth time
after I have, in a low sincere voice
tried to explain
she still refuses to listen

the physical force of her body
overpowers me,
flailing limbs land hurtful kicks
punches make my arms give way

I bite my lower lip,
make big eyes, hold her arm
and place a carefully weighed
whack on her behind
with a third of the force
I feel inside

rage boils over, a moment
of regained control sears holes
in me and in her
that may take a lifetime to heal

01.06.2020

Published in The Alipore Post as 3 poems on Motherhood on 17/02/2021

https://www.thealiporepost.com/post/3-poems-on-motherhood-by-pooja-ugrani

Expecto Patronum

my toddler in the colony park
breaks out into a wild dance
celebrating the wind
that sways huge trees all around her,
just when the evening storm is setting in
I egg her home
run behind her screaming "Slow, slow!"
with my jhola full of groceries
as she speeds up in her pink scooter.

This creates my shield
fights a world that has become so gory
I cannot understand it anymore
I need help today
for I have knelt down
hung my head in shame

She makes me get up and dance with her,
we blow raspberries at each other,
create bubbles with our saliva,
birth marks become burp marks
we hunt for muddy puddles
where three different bow bows
and diaper wearing snakes made caca

She makes me
forget a little, live a little.
She is not my Horcrux,
she is what my Patronus is made of.

01.06.2020

Published in The Alipore Post as 3 poems on Motherhood on 17/02/2021

https://www.thealiporepost.com/post/3-poems-on-motherhood-by-pooja-ugrani

Two feet

Two feet witness
those toiling to reach home,
witness the sum of all things unjust,
all seasons adverse, weathered,
shaped by the unprecedented.

Two feet find
the will to break barriers
that segregate, cage, dictate
leap over fears that open out
possibilities to be shared as humans.

Two feet unravel
knots around identity,
enriching such choices
of what is imbibed and what is kept out,
find their way through a tunnel that connects.

18.05.2020

Published in hākārā: a bilingual journal of creative expression, Turbulence, Issue 12 in September 2020 

https://www.hakara.in/pooja-ugrani/