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221 · Jun 2020
Cycle of Life
Katya F Jun 2020
She opened her eyes.

A bright warm glow filled the room,
She could hear a soft twinkling tune.
Dangling animals above her head,
Fresh cotton sheets draped across the tiny bed.
A milky potion, stuffed between her lips.
She started to wail, to scream, tears started to drip.
A tender touch,
A heartfelt hush,
The calming powers of a mother’s love,
Stuffed tightly inside her newborn baby’s glove.

The menacing school bus,
Brought in daily tantrums and fuss.
Crayons and colouring sheets,
The torturous instruments of her defeat.
Encaged in a chamber of words and numbers too,
Where knowledge would imprison her and tighten the *****.
And while all the other children would laugh and play,
She would sit in the corner, lonely and astray.
Listening to the melodious tune the birds would sing,
Longing for the school bell to finally ring.

He ran his fingers through her silky hair,
They were young, innocent and without a single care.
He whispered softly, his eyes bright and alight,
It was just the two of them, engulfed in the blanket of night.
Sown on the hems were twinkling stars,
There they lay, gazing upon the world from afar.
In his tight embrace,
All her problems were erased.
Both of them doused in love’s lure,
For when they were together, time passed by like a blur.

Gently propped on the hospital bed,
A musty pillow tucked beneath her head.
They plunged their knifes deep inside,
The pain so great, yet she stifled her cries.  
Then with one great sweep,
He awoke from his sleep.
And a living miracle was born into the room,
Casting a beacon of light into the abyss of gloom.  
She cradled in her hand, a bundle of pure joy,
And life was perfect with her new baby boy.

Her pale skin, a crinkled paper,
The puffs from Death’s poisoned vapor.
The tumor, they said, had spread to her head,
Motionless, lifeless, she lay chained to her bed.
She recalled her precious younger days,
A spectacle of memories set her dying mind ablaze.
Glancing around, familiar faces filled the room,
The smallest of them all, humming that familiar twinkling tune.
Her precious child, tears dripping from his eyes,
She reached out to touch him, halting his cries.

A tender touch,
A heartfelt hush,
The power of true love,
Forever engrained, even from above.
The cycle of life set on an endless repeat,
The cycle of life, no one can cheat.

She closed her eyes.
The cycle of life is inevitable, but what you choose to do during your life is what matters the most.
Katya F Apr 2020
I’m trapped within my bedroom walls,
With days turning into weeks and time slipping from us all.
Every day blindly following a purposeless routine,
Every night solemnly watching the tragic news on the screen.
I watch as the whole world breathes a heavy sigh,
But we must remain hopeful - help is nearby.

Though how I long to be outside again basking in the warm sunlight,
The rays emitting a kaleidoscope of colours creating a truly beautiful sight.
I reminisce my runs through miles of luscious grassy grounds,
Immersed in nature’s alluring symphony of sounds.
How I’ve taken all those times for granted before,
Now all I see in front of me is my dusty wooden door.

I peer out my window into the bleary sky,
And see a rare sign of life - a majestic eagle soaring up high.
I pray that I too could be up in that misty cloud,
Floating through the skies - free and proud.
Visiting my friends and family hundreds of miles away,
How I hope they’re all safe and doing okay…

But instead I’m trapped within my bedroom walls,
And so are millions of others in this world so small.
While heroic doctors and nurses battle to save lives,
We must be hopeful and pray that the world survives.

Let this be a wake up call,
Stay at home so we can save us all.
Because if you do the day will come when we’re finally set free,
But never forget this period of our lives that’ll shape us for years to be.

— The End —