Reading Time: < 1 minute
The poet, Sangeeta, grapples with despair, unable to find solace, as reality hinders her dreams and resilience, exclusively for Different Truths.
In the icy world of despair, I tried to ignite some flame in the Tendrils of my heart, And add a dash of flavour, To brew some life. BUT To my surprise I found rigid towers That kept no door For the fragrance of tranquillity to flow in And soothe the torment, And ease the fury therein. I managed to carry a fistful of hope, When I was robbed Of the light on that stormy shore, When the fierceness of the tempest, I knitted a veil of pitch-black curtain Over me. I stealthily managed to keep a fistful of hope With the HOPE, of layering it in The crevices of my soul, When the right time would knock at my door. BUT This time the gripping reality intrigues me, I was wrong in the perception that I could Once again celebrate my freedom. And could let the wings soar. BUT I couldn’t because the ties had been snapped That leads the way to my heart, I cannot build the bridges Through the fortified tower, Within which lies a whirlpool, I watch helplessly as I see the tendrils of my heart That nurtured life-living essence, are On the brink of drowning. The regime of a misogynist domain Has conquered my region. I stand, knowing how I sneered at, my precision, and all the delicate embroidered fancies, I weave. The fistful of hope Slowly escapes my hold, Will it ignite some spark somewhere? Once again, I frantically Throw a pale look With a dim yearning.
Picture design by Anumita Roy
