A Letter to You

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Here’s a poem about love and identity, by Poornima, in Different Truths.

Our dear unborn

I wish we could breathe a somewhere

To string together the violet stems of an early evening

Set the sun on fire and hope that the inferno will open your eyes

Fill it with dawns so orange

That you will see nothing but

That are as golden the scintillating

That can blur the hate this world

So easily owns in its womb

 

Our dear unborn

I wish I could call you mine

In this place where names matter and surnames give you the identity you deserve

That your skill to draw that sketch so precisely will not make a difference

As much as the caste or the creed that you are labelled with

But hell-born as you are

We, your father and I, made every bit of you

A , word after word

A poem so full of love

That it sticks a dagger in the heart of oppression

And stands like an unsung folk

But still known

 

Our dear unborn

You are neither the stain nor the crack on our walls

You are neither the policy nor the clause of the law of this soil

You are a bit of him

A bit more of me

A right pinch of us

Just enough to believe in the magic of love

©Poornima Laxmeshwar

Photos from the internet 

#Love #Poem #UnbornChild #UnbornLove #Womb #DifferentTruths

Poornima Laxmeshwar

Poornima Laxmeshwar

Poornima Laxmeshwar resides in the garden city Bangalore and works as a content writer for a living.
Poornima Laxmeshwar

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