What if every little thought
That lives inside your head
Instead of hiding away in there
Was spoken out, was said?

Would you be embarrassed?
Would you hate your mouth?
Would you rather be mute
Than let the truth come out?

What if every little thing
That people thought of you
Instead of being tucked away
Was heard, was listened to?

Would you be ashamed?
Would you cover your ears?
Would you rather be deaf
Than let the truth come near?

And what if every image
That passes through your thoughts
Was freed from its prison
To roam until it rots?

Would you be disgusted?
Would you look away?
Would you rather be blind
Than see your thoughts at play?

He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come

I've always been confused
by media's personifications of Life.

A beautiful woman
                          whose skin is flawless
                          whose face is symmetric
                          who has no faults

She, Life, is perfect and clean.

How life truly is not

A depiction of Life I give you now,
one not so perfect as She before.

                                           Skin and features of many
                                           taking in the best and worst.
                                                    A being who is strong and weak
                                                    visibly ill while being well.
                                A being who is beautiful in it's -u-g-l-i-n-e-s-s-
                                or rather,
                                a being who is beautiful in it's uniqueness.
                                      
A being who is not perfect,
but strives to be.
A being who is not commonly pretty,
but true to the mixture of
                                 Pain and Sorrow
with
                                 Ease and Joy.

Now I am sure you depict
Life a different way.
But how truthful all these depictions are

for life is different to everyone.

I loved you.
And then I hated you
in both
I was hurt.

I have learned to recite Quran at a very young age,
We went to school in the morning,
And to Madrasa in the afternoon,
I don't know Arabic,
My mother tongue is Gujrati,
I don't understand what I am reciting,
But it is the Book of Allah,
And after reading it,
I feel I have cleansed myself of sins,
A sense of calmness and peace comes over me,
And if any day I miss reciting it I feel empty.
14/10/2024

New
Like the dawn
The glorious sunrise
Pinkish hues awash with silent beiges
And the sun
Is a fiery orb
Coloring life into every living thing

I feel the new
With my breath
In and out
And I think of the ocean
The powerful ocean
I can feel it within my heart,
The waves rumbling through my veins

I can see the new
In not so distant visions
Of a future full of growth
I’ve healed so much
And yet there’s more
More of the new
I open my doors
Let it all in
All the gloriously soothing beauty
Of life’s simplest pleasures
Healing me

There’s been a crack made in my lifelong illusions
I’m beginning to feel clarity, and not confusion
Saying yes yes yes
To more beauty.

It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived