I H A D T O

B R E A K M E

b y N i s ha

I offer my deepest gratitude to all the voices within me that guided me, nurtured me, nourished me, and tormented me during this process. I was a mere vessel for the manifestations of this expression. I am forever grateful to my dear family, friends, and community.

C O N T E N T S

Part 1: Wars 15

Part 2: You 53

Part 3: Mourning 95

Part 4: Earthquake 133

Part 5: Stillness 163

Part 6: Me 211

Introduction

When life wages war within you, where do you hide?

When you have been wounded, where do you seek refuge?

Who do you trust with your deepest fears and grievances against life?

When you can no longer trust your own mind, where do you go for solace?

When the heart longs to be broken in order to heal, can you trust the pain

that emerges?

To answer these questions, I had to break every known piece of me. I had

to destroy every shelter I’d created and tune in to every voice of fear. I

had to embrace a long-overdue death. I had to shatter every piece of my

ego, which captured my spirit in solitary confinement. Ultimately, I had

to embrace every broken piece of me.

I am not a writer or a poet. Instead, with this collection, I have transformed

my nauseous suffering into a form. I have converted my cry into a mosaic

of words. I have turned my joy into scripts. No, I have never been a writer;

I am an observer of all of this within me.

I HAD TO BREAK ME is a collection born from thousands of hours

of solitude, in which I processed my deepest, darkest truths. The story

unfolds in six parts:

1. WARS: The battles we wage within and without. I contend with

a broken healthcare system and the religious teachings that no longer

soothe me. I confront old ways of being that no longer serve me.

2. YOU: The glories and agonies of love. I experience great

changes within me as a result of my loving and being loved.

3. MOURNING: A journey of returning. I have lost myself in the

vicissitudes of life, but I am determined to find myself again.

4. EARTHQUAKE: A personal account of the April 2015

earthquake in Nepal. I see my home country reduced to rubble, and I

strive to reassemble the pieces—the pieces of our infrastructure and our

community.

5. STILLNESS: The barest possible portrait of my soul. I move

from the ego’s painful trap to a fresh, sweet freedom.

6. ME: A central truth revealed. Every war, every love, every pain,

every revelation Is completely contained within my perception. I explore

“the language of my own book.”

This poetry collection is for seekers of wisdom, lovers of self-exploration,

and those who want to attune to the subtle realities within each of us.

My hope is that these poems offer you expansion past the limits of self as

defined by ego.

I am ready to welcome you into my world. I pray you find solace, joy, and

love here.

–

War within me

No power in this world can make peace with it

No material comfort can resolve this uncivil war within me

No lover can appease this war

–

Yes, I suffer

I recognize my suffering rather than blaming everyone else

I suffer because I am attached

I suffer because I am afraid of the unknown

I suffer because I lose faith so fast

I suffer looking at the wounds of others

I suffer because I think I can change others

I suffer because I think I can change the world

I suffer because I seek love in others when I am the love I have been

waiting for

I suffer because I escape the present moment, living between a recurring

past and the unknown, unmanifested future

–

Which god will you take me to for the sins I have committed?

Which temples of god do I enter?

Which visible portraits of god do I trust?

Of the gods that have been forced upon me, which do I ignore?

–

Don’t—don’t drag me to the temple

I won’t find anything there

It reminds me of that hell you threaten me with

The blood of sacrificed animals splashed on the floor for your well-being

Please don’t—don’t force me to sit with discipline before the priest

That priest chokes the voice of my god

I have been pushed inside the beautifully decorated homes of so called

gods

I have been touched inappropriately inside the houses of gods

I have been molested by an unknown stranger inside the temple

I have witnessed wounded smiles waiting to be healed by the gods

within us

–

I can’t perform the rituals you have entrenched in me

I can’t follow rules that have been imposed upon me

I can’t find god in the parroted mantras so constantly recited

I can’t assemble all the goods and take them to your god

I can’t seem to bribe god

–

God inside me:

What do you see that I seem to ignore?

Veil opens slightly

And closes again.

–

You are the malady in my immortality

You are the confusion in my clarity

You are the ignorance in my wisdom

You are the sins in my blessings

You are the salt sprinkled on my bleeding ulcer

You are the raging fire within that cremates me each moment

You are the death in my reincarnation, occurring simultaneously

You are the resurrection that sprinkles tepid water on my moribund self

I am that you

You are that me

I need to find me in that you

–

Does the heart lie

When it feels?

Why does the heart feel?

–

My ego defeated me today

I have become lifeless again

I question me

I exist as a blaze

I exist as a rising sea level

I have withdrawn again

The valves to my heart are occluded today

Congested with stagnant stale emotions

My failed state needs an effusion

–

Cut me open

Drain my lucid pain

Silence my dissenting voices

Don’t protect me with those toxic walls

I’d rather be wounded

I’d rather face the pain

–

I want to disappear in this moment,

Fall and fall down,

Fall like the leaves that have fallen,

Temporarily perhaps,

Like the leaves now being crushed

By the passersby.

Should I have trusted my heart?

Is my heart to be trusted?

–

My dreams are manifesting, yet I am frozen

Too frozen to numb my pain

Countless dreams scaffold my pain

Even my tears have frozen

My anger doesn’t dare melt my frozen tears

I have become like concrete

Even nature does not recognize me

I want to yell

Yet I subdue it with material dreams that have materialized

I don’t have the courage to face the truth

I don’t have the stamina to look into my own wounds

They see me and my aspirations

Everything said

And nothing heard

Nothing said

Yet all the voices heard

–

Freedom, where you can’t even hear your breath

Freedom, where you can’t taste the essence of your food

Freedom, where you can’t sleep in peace

Freedom, where you constantly worry about tomorrow

Freedom, where your past continues to haunt you

Freedom, where you can’t enjoy your own presence

–

I invited many guests to my sacred space

I heard their incessant voices in my head

I entertained them with my thoughts and feelings

I am seeking that space, without their voices in my head

–

I am cremated every day by the toxicity of my thoughts.

I need to add more oil to my fire to burn

My anger,

My rage,

My hostility,

My longing,

My endless desires.

My body disintegrates with each log of thoughts,

But my thoughts never seem to become ashes.

When will they become ashes so I can offer them to the water?

So I don’t cling to my existence?

Even the water that I am waiting to be saved by is contaminated with

the toxic waste of our greed.

What would happen if I buried myself beneath the ground?

Would my thoughts find me under the soil?

–

I don’t know why I complain when every luxury is presented

to me on a plate

–

I get fooled

Over and over again

Fooled by the illusion of my thoughts

Stories I create within myself

I design my own entertainment

Reality refuses to attest to my story

Affliction so close

I get fooled by it again

And the cycle repeats and persists

–

I bang my head against the sky that has no wall

–

Where do healers go when they are wounded by their own pain?

By carrying the pain and suffering of others?

Who will put that salve on their wounds?

Who can they trust to heal?

I am haunted by this 15-minute visit.

Healing others has become a venom for me.

–

This untold story

Being labeled with a diagnosis

This untold and undiagnosed story

Being checked off and masked with a pill

–

This 15-minute office visit

In those 15 minutes, we begin to explore your life

In those 15 minutes, I feel your pain

In those 15 minutes, you cry in that room

I worry I am missing a major medical diagnosis

I worry I may not have addressed all your labs

I worry I will forget to ask important questions

In those 15 minutes, I hope you don’t ask me for a Vicodin refill

In those 15 minutes, I hold my urine so I can hear the details of your story

In those 15 minutes, I worry if I have written enough notes for your next visit

In those 15 minutes, I worry if I can give you the same attention that I

gave to my first patient of the day

In those 15 minutes, I worry you may not have understood what I said

I practice listening to you without interruption

I type as fast as I can, ignoring the aches in my hands

I forget myself in those 15 minutes with you

In those 15 minutes, I see refugees from all over the world

Including our own refugees, who are involved with drugs, gangs,

violence

And there is no rescue committee looking to resettle them

–

Burnout and a hand injury

This computer takes me away from healing other beings

I have become useless without my ability to click and type

Unable to touch a broken soul without this click

I have become useless to the world of clickers today

There is no place for me in healthcare without being able to click

I have become untouchable in this world of clicking

I feel burning pain in my hand after every click

I patiently wait for others to do the clicking for me

I pray this clicking does not come between you and me

I pray registration and insurance do not come between you and me

I pray pharmaceuticals and diagnostics do not come between you and me

I pray legal bureaucracy and “cover your own ass” do not come between

you and me

I wonder how many hands are still hurting with this click

How many souls are not being healed with this click

I pray to god to take clicking away from healing

Healing so profound that it can break the pain of generations

Healing beyond time and space

Healing beyond race and language

Healing beyond the history of present illness to untold and unmanifested

healing

This click has led me to find my own healing

–

Physical pain so deep

It hurts to move

I cry to a river

I witness this suffering

This pain confining me

No wine or thistle to mask this pain

No shopping for a brief rampage

I only witness this feeling

As an observer

Paralyzed by my own disability

–

I was dying every moment

I was dying being told what to do

Most of all, my spirit was dying

I was dying, and I was living in tomorrow

I was pretending to be happy

I was finding peace in healing others

Fancy food could not restore my life

Luxury was wasteful

I was dragging myself to go to work

I was forcing my very existence

Effort was needed for every task

I was dying every second to live for tomorrow

My past had already beaten me alive

–

Nature is flirting with me

I’m still obsessed with that text I have not received

Flowers just bloomed from dark winter

I’m still upset about the past

The tree has already forgotten about the fallen leaves

I’m still ruminating on my pain

–

I played by every damn rule you asked me to.

Where were you when I was lying stricken,

Unable to move?

I was suffocating under those rules.

But when I fell down broken,

None of your rules mattered.

–

I am frozen at a sterile temperature.

My every essence is lost while being frozen perfectly

Into plumed variations, and yet retaining no inch of taste.

Everything is at a standstill and cast in boxes within me to make different

shapes of ice.

This stops the bleeding within me transiently.

How long do I stay frozen in rooms of refrigeration within me?

The emotions I freeze,

Deepest desires I keep frozen.

What happens when there is no more electricity to sustain the freezing

within me?

What happens to the flow within me?

What happens if I dance to the fluidity within me?

To the broken pieces of dreams,

To the scarred heart,

To the scared vehemence,

To the untamed and unfrozen self in fluidity.

It may overflow onto the floor.

It may stink with fungi and mold on the surface within me.

I may have to throw myself into the garbage.

I may have to drain the clogged system.

Then, perhaps, I will start tasting the nectar within me that is unfrozen,

Its true essence.

–

Trees dance for me

I am still caught up in my redundant thoughts

Flowers smile for me

I am still in despair

Sky paints for me

I still ruminate

Flower blooms, knowing it will soon fall to the ground

I am still afraid to bloom

–

It’s the same pain

Some days, I cry

Some days, I am angry

Some days, I witness it as it is

Some days, I blame others

Some days, I fight with it

Some days, I pray for it to heal

Some days, I want to disappear

Most days, I accept it for the lessons it is here to teach me

–

Allow me to scream

Allow me to face the depths of my pain

My self-created illusive pain

This battlefield is coarse

I’m not as strong as you think I am

I just need a corner to cry in

There is no war to win here

There is nobody to blame

Let me reside in my absolute suffering

Sweep away the dust created by my longing for love

–

Don’t soothe me with the temporary charms of this world

I can’t find glamour in that anymore

Don’t calm me with your own vulnerability

I see the pain in your eyes that you’re trying to hide

I don’t recognize this world

I can’t belong here yet

I am struggling to breathe from my own choking fist

I am facing my every existence

–

I entertain living in a monastery

To hide from all these feelings

To be away from people

Or more so from myself

Turmoil and terrains to pass through

Hurdles and realizations to process

Temptations and fires to extinguish

Feeling the intensity of this cry

I cry

Tears flowing through that do not stop

–

Together yet alone

Alone yet together

Distant yet so close

So close yet so distant

In pain yet free

In comfort yet in so much pain

–

Rain falls and cleanses the sparkling oil from the black concrete next to

my balcony

I have been crying and cleansing me of the internal dirt that I have

accumulated, hidden, and ignored over the years

I convert my vigorous cry into an audacious half-smile

–

I became like the sands of a dried-up river

Angry because my river was taken from me

Ego held my spirit in solitary confinement

It was diligently trying to protect me

I was dying along with the armor of its protection

No mountain would dare to echo my cries

I have bolstered enough courage to live in the land of unknowns without

any protection

I will continue to live in my wounded self