Skip to main content

The Seed


The seed of her dreams is now a full-grown tree
Good vibes run through its twigs and roots
Some vulnerable pulses hang on shy branches
But that's fine, they are only bits
Waiting to grow into fine wine and weathers
Shadows of darkness do not loom over
Nor ghosts of the forgotten past
She has learned to burn her bridges to wrong turns
Swallowed bitter poison and pride like lame jokes
Crawled to walk straight and stand upright
While learning to bow in reverence and humility
In all her simplicity and naivity, her innocence survived
Even in bits and pieces but clear enough
For her to see and feel, exhibit and inhale
Bad times passed like layers of ignored phases
And now she knows how to row around rough waters
Tough does not sound difficult nor pain intolerable
Between sweet and savory lie her tastebuds
Just like her road amid black and white
No, it's not grey, but a color of her own soul
The hue her spirit has chosen time and again
The only constant in her is the dynamic life
She has decided for her mind and feet to walk on
Relax, she is a full-grown tree now spreading
And smiling across seasons, reasons to celebrate
Waiting at every bend to welcome something new
A new lesson, a new surprise, a new dream
****

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Clips of Emotions

Clip 1: The Ocean The ocean is calm and quiet. The shades of blue are clearly visible even from afar. The occasional noises are of the speed boats whooshing every now and then along with the sea planes. Finally, I got to be on the swing I have been eyeing since Day 1 of my Maldives trip. A fisherman hunk is busy getting the blue fish that intrigued my curiosity and amazement to the core. He showed me his catch, got 5 big ones so far. The huge cargo ships are the only ones stagnant. And the hunk's impressive hat swung from one corner to the other along with the breeze. Clip 2: The Night I am sitting by the Rasfannu beach again. But it's 9.45 at night. The whole of Male city is a sprawling party site at night. The roads at night are more crowded with much more traffic than during daytime. The speed boats are moving normally even at this odd hour. The barbecue spots by the beach are now occupied with grilled fish. I can smell all of it in the air. The night comes alive with ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Two Different Faces

As I am about to pen the two different faces, I can clearly visualize them in my mind. Their faces remained very prominent in my heart. These faces belong to two mothers - two very different mothers from different cultures, societies and times. But both faces portray a common entity - the image of a mother. They portray two different worlds, two different extremities. And I respect them with all my heart and soul. The first face is that of a young mother in her late 20s. This was way back in the 1980s. She is my mother. I was maybe around 7 or 8 at that time. We two were on a short trip to my maternal uncle's place. We stayed there for just two days and with a heavy heart I had to accept my mother's decision to return home. Heavy heart because I always liked the idea of visiting my cousins there (they are my favorite cousins after all) and staying with them as long as possible. Any stay there was never enough for us to be done playing with. So my cousins and I would start ...
Post a Comment
Read more

He: Excerpts from Faded Diary Pages (2)

An autumn afternoon maybe: She has no clue why she feels exactly the same way she used to feel when she felt. Not a thing about it has changed at all. Why would she have this emotional attack every now and then? No, she is not blaming him or anything as such, not even her own self. But she really wants to know why it is how it is right now. It is indeed suffocating something inside her. Is it felt across with the same intensity as well? She needs to know because it can't just happen to her alone, she believes strongly about it. There has to be something mutual. It can't be nothing in vain. She saw an angular picture with a professional camera focusing on something, or someone maybe. She could feel those hands. She could feel the gentle strikes of those fingers. She could feel that touch. She could feel that feeling. Why wouldn't it fade away into oblivion? There is pure negligence and intentional indifference, or maybe natural. Yet that feeling doesn't just die. What w...
Post a Comment
Read more