Tag: poem

pūrṇam | wholeness

Téa NicolaeLeave a comment

yesterday, we concluded three weeks of intense study at Śabda Institute. my beloved teacher, Amma (Dr. Kavitha Chinnaiyan), and her beloved teacher, Sumitji (Dr. Sumit Kesarkar), helped decode the esoteric meaning veiled within the magnificent Īśopaniṣad, and, with great expertise, made its heavy and charged verses applicable for us – as both householders and as practitioners. i was most touched by the chant’s invocation & by its teaching of wholeness, which inspired me to write a poem that i was greatly honoured to read at the beginning of our fifth class. 🧡


oṃ | pūrṇamadaḥ pūrṇamidaṃ pūrṇātpūrṇamudacyate |

pūrṇasya pūrṇamādāya pūrṇamevāvaśiṣyate ||


Oṃ is the entirety from which everything we see as parts has emerged. The whole remains whole even when a part is taken from it. The whole was born out of the whole. What appears as a part is the whole, and the leftover is whole. The whole cannot be split even when it appears so.
(translation by Sumitji).


☀️ my poem (written as a ghazal):


pūrṇam | wholeness


you were always whole
the grief on your tongue was whole


when longing cut like a knife
the woe stuck to your eyelids was whole


when anger brimmed in your belly
the burn of your cruelty was whole


when the sun washed your cheeks
the glee warming your fingertips was whole


when your heart cracked open
the light trickling through was whole


my parents named me ‘Gift of God’
what gifts are there when all’s already whole?


☀️ praṇām to our two illustrious teachers & to the vidyā they graciously transmitted to us in these three weeks. 🧡 the wonders of Śabda Institute 😊

reading my poem

“defeat me” – poem, prayer for Naraka Caturdaśī

Téa NicolaeLeave a comment

defeat me,
monsoon one.
pierce through the weaponry of the self
until my armour plate breaks in two,
and i crumble at your feet
the way Naraka fell before you and Satyā.

show me mercy,
monsoon one.
before your sudarśana delivers my final blow,
hold me as one’s beloved would.
cradle me
the way you embraced your gopis
when swaying with the woods of Vṛndā.

dance me,
monsoon one,
to your flute’s tune
show me the hills
where the milkmaids bathed your feet with their tears.

let our waltz come to end
when my hand slips from yours…
then claim your victory over me,
Hari.
unchain me from my bonds of delusion
burn the bitterness weighing my heart
so we meld as one.
free me into union with you,
lover of Rādhā,
the way you wedded Naraka’s imprisoned women.

purifier of the fallen,
defeat me
and
allow me
rest
within you.

“defeat me”, poem / prayer for Naraka Caturdaśī… 💛 wishing a blessed Dīpāvali to all! may our ignorance dissolve into the light of consciousness as the asuras were absorbed into the devatās.

credit for the second, beautiful image: Madhav, unsplash.

tiny personal note: this is the first Dīpāvali i am spending in a place of my own, and it has been so precious to decorate my apartment (and even my rabbit’s hutch!) for the festival of lights. 💫 

grateful!

the tapestry behind me: the feet of Hari & Rādhārāṇī, by Harsh Malik. 💛

thirst, bhakti poetry

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happy Vijayadaśamī! 💙 from this month’s newsletter of Śabda Institute. honoured that my poem accompanies the announcement of such an exquisite offering 💙 in this highly auspicious time, may our longing fuel our sādhanā, and may our devotion sweeten its unfolding. 💙

Dear One, 

The Śabda Saṅgha is continuing its study of the Bhagavad Gītā with a new theme – that of Bhakti Yoga. In honour of this new cycle of study, we are pleased to share a beautiful poem of longing and devotion by one of Kavithaji’s students, Téa Nicolae.

thirst
infused with devotion
my days unfurl tenderly
chinks fissure the armour plate of the self
and life dances through the cracks
madly enamoured
i long for the Beloved’s caress
my throat, so swollen
my mouth, so parched
my Beloved quenches the thirst:
grace pours down in ripples
i drink hastily

witching hour

Téa NicolaeLeave a comment

*poem published in Coven Poetry, 2021.

at witching hour

she enchants the sky,

binding the stars with her elder wand

when the moon drips on her tongue,

she breathes into her bones

and her spirit spills through her nostrils

she jolts to the sky

where she unfolds;;;

she erupts in rolling thunders,,,

slides constellations through her hair,,,

tangles herself on rays of sun,,,

                        and blossoms into all-encompassing all-pervading awareness

           she surrounds all penetrates all upholds the galaxy eternal she is endless

                        she is ALL THAT IS

                                               …………………………………………………………………..

when the charm fades, her skin tingles

as she is drawn back into her flesh

in which she crashes with beautiful violence

her essence melds into her figure, sliding through blood vessels

her spirit curls between her fingers

her soul swells inside her mouth

and from ALL THAT IS

she becomes

A MICROCOSM

A FRAGMENT OF THE WHOLE

image credit: Tithi Luadthong, shutterstock.

luster

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a poem for Kṛṣṇa Janmāṣṭamī…  💙

luster

burnt with longing,

i am a river scorched

by the summer sun

shimmering haze of light,

my swithered heart

i find you in the pause

i have not seen heaven

but i have seen moon’s luster

dripping onto your hips

he who dwells in my heart

is the white lord of pandharpur,

the one who plays

monsoon one,

your waist is my altar

there is no need

for pearls

when you are there

wishing beautiful celebrations to everyone! Jai Śrī Kṛṣṇa, the enchanter of the heart! 💙

loss slithered inside me

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like a snake,

slicing my bones

and scratching my veins

with its scales.

my loss

burnt my fingertips

and dug a hole

in the centre of my chest.

i tried to feed the hole

kindness, drugs, and love

but my loss swallowed it all

and hungrily pushed against my ribs.

when i’m quiet

i can hear the hole

swelling under my heart,

greedily.

*poem featured in Wretched City. from my poetry collection “my loss is my root”, written in 2019.

picture credit: unsplash.

i bank at your feet

Téa NicolaeLeave a comment

“the world’s a boundless ocean

there’s no crossing it,

but i bank at your feet.

i see the waves,

the bottomless waters

and shiver in terror of dissolution.

be merciful,

save your beloved.

harbour me in your boat

to your feet.

the tempest storms without lull,

so too my shaking body.

i’m immersed in your name…Tārā!

the essence of the world.

fulfill this desire of You.”

my rendition of a few verses written by Bhakti poet Ramprasad Sen & picked from a poem dedicated to Tārā. the original translation belongs to Rachel Fell McDermott!

happy Navāratra! today is the last day of Śabda Institute’s immersion into the exquisite vidyā of Tārā, the luminous Mahāvidyā who embodies the very essence of pure expression – the north star that guides us to the self. we learned to chant the Tārā Dhyānam and explored highly esoteric concepts such as Vāk and Śabda Brahman from the standpoint of practical applications in our day-to-day lives. truly, what i love most about this approach is how highly practical and immediate the application is.

this Navāratra was wondrous, and i am grateful it is the second one i have spent in the company of our saṅgha. my heart swells for the glistening of the stars that shall guide me home…

śrī mātre namah!

letters, cuts

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*scattered poems published in scan lancaster, february 2020. they belong to a collection of poetry i compiled which chronicles the various stages of coping with grief. written a few years ago…

01. 01. 2018

dear A,

it’s been three years since i’ve lost you

and i swear i am trying.

i bought a shiny yoga mat

and i do yin yoga for grief release.

i ground my feet,

do warrior poses

and chant.

i try,

but no matter how much i contort my body at dawn

my sorrow rips through my brain

and sticks to my eyelids.

10. 02. 2018

most beloved A,

i wear my loss

like i wear my rings.

11. 02. 2018

darling A,

i swear i’m trying.

i’ve stopped reading sylvia plath

and i bookmark poems

about the universe that is supposedly unfolding in my core.

i read self-help articles about how pain is grace,

grinding my teeth.

i write inspirational quotes on purple notebooks

and i make bullet-points about buddhism

with pink pens.

i press the tips onto the paper

hard

as if to push what i write through me.

i beg my mind to meditate

i put on compilations of “deep relaxing & healing music with instant relief from stress”

and i force myself to still.

i download apps that ease anxiety

and i go to meditation groups on wednesdays.

but, no matter how long i stay cross-legged on the floor,

straightening my back and linking my thumbs,

it hurts.

25. 02. 2018

my dearest A,

i quit drinking

and i made new friends.

friends that drink hot chocolate

friends that watch soft films

friends that pray in the evenings

instead of drowning in face paint

and sprawling on dance floors.

they meet for coffee

they talk about how simple life is

and i nod when my heart clenches.

30. 02. 2018

beloved A,

my brain is softly melting to the floor

04. 03. 2018

ever dearest A,

i’ve been reading about the cycle of rebirth

i wish to believe in it,

but scepticism clouds my heart.

i’m not pure enough for transcendence

so if i am reborn

i wish i could be as small

as a sparrow.

11. 04. 2019

dear A,

i’m unsure where loss ends

        and i begin.

                                                                                                                                  with longing,

                                                                                                                                  T. ☼

gasping for air in my bell jar,

Téa NicolaeLeave a comment

i long for closure and i crave familiarity,

melded thoughts and warm hands.

i am desperate to connect.

i want to feel someone’s soul

glued to mine.

i dream of intimacy,

but i’m clumsy:

when people embrace me too tightly,

i hiss like a cornered snake.

i’m wary of being alone, but

i drift away during conversations,

i ignore messages,

i break friendships,

i feign smiles.

i find refuge

in my bell jar.

every night

i close the jar’s lid with shaky hands,

hug my knees

and blow air on the glass.

*poem published in scan lancaster, february 2020, in the column ‘four incantations for loss, joy and love’. i wrote it two years ago, as part of my second-year poetry collection ‘teenage angst’. i aimed to emulate the restlessness i felt as a young, teenage girl. i feel so touched reading it! wish i could hug that olden version of myself.