Kripi Malviya (Colours of Love and Barriers)

Kripi Malviya
Kripi Malviya is an existential, intersectional and queer psychologist and poet. She lives in India where she runs an emotional wellbeing organisation called TATVA combining psychotherapy, nature and cultural immersion with creative exploration and emotional awareness She is the co-founder the Poetry Therapy Society of India and her work has been published and performed in literary, cross-disciplinary and psychotherapy journals, conferences and festivals nationally and internationally (Psychedelic Press UK, the Four Quarters Magazine, the Sunflower Collective, Nether Quarterly, The Kali Project and the Black Warrior Review). She is the winner of the 2017 Rhythm Divine International Poetry Chapbook contest for her first poetry collection; ale(theia).

The world is a very distant place; looking for closeness, but fickle with closure. We are but crisis - an opportunity for revelation, terrified and entranced, always older. Today you look and behave and feel exactly unlike someone you thought you would be. Cobalt and overgrown hair and unspoken pain. Every midway is cloaked and pure. Transfixed that the ones you love are just blurred days, clinging to your muscles with simmering eyes. I don't notice my body at all anymore; it’s genealogy of desire, like smoothness of leaves. My ether; to crave singularly for escape. Rings clinking, damp pillow, rasping skin and nacreous capillaries.


Magnificence swallowed in dream sized liqueurs. We are as if the carnivores of sweat, the night and tempestuous time. Such wilful prisoners of this present sepia sun. Trying to find the whole blue universe on a granitic island, which holds in itself millions of us. Redefining the colours of war with the self. Laying ever steady in desire and distance, absorption and scatter. We are diffuse love, airglow travellers and found in all 53 blues of the cyanometer. Our skins nothing but shades of burn, fire throwers in disguise; we are the collective tears of the lives from which we have run. Bleeding for every ending.  The intoxicants of Dhyaan. Light ray catchers, inhabitants of tycho, duality seeker and carriers of endless change.


I am so incapable of entirely possessing all the love that I keep in my dissonant planet; how wide it can be, how immersive and concealed. I am at a loss to my own flammability and its fearsome lacuna. I am shell-less but I shrink with immense purpose and plight into my overexposed skin. I am light source, slight to blinding; discerning to the sensitivity of each beholden sight. I am a life eclipse imaginator; startled at my own corners, melting continuously into whoever I irreversibly enter. I am tired; laying under lair clouds, jealous and heavy and wanting. I am talented with my half-submerged pearl shine, that is both my animus and my only earth. I am the beating lunar clock that records each passing sea drift, melting reluctantly, dissentient to daylight. My every now is the most convincing sign of my windswept life, my infirmity, my inverse megacosm.


I keep trying to catch the red in the trees. The humming moon; afloat, alone. Clutching illuminations. The colours are coming; contoured, huddled skin. Willow hair. Light's invasion of blur. The days are melting again. Kiss the seeker - to capture is to learn to die. The grace of the skies. What if there is no other? We are the knots of the ages. The pockets of air. Unknowing loss. We are vacant masters, many too. Clamouring, digits of desire. Do we ever truly know our left eye?

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