"कहती हो हर मुलाकात पर, गर्व है तुम पर,
करते रहो कोशिश, लेते रहो नन्हे कदम।
ज़िन्दगी बड़ी सुहानी है, खुल के जियो हर पल,
आने वाला कल क्या होगा, ये किसने जाना ?
तो छोड़ो बीते पचड़े, कल की चिंता,
और चल पड़ो, सब्र का हाथ थामे अपनी राह पर।"

She is the poem I never wrote,
but always wanted to write.
The poem I’d sit down with,
every intention of writing,
but could not come up with
the right words.
Sweet, but fierce.
Discarding perfection,
only asking for presence.
A flower that learned to survive
in a drought.

She is a poem that takes
the pieces of herself and
arranges them in love.
Not the loving pieces easily
found in the light
that’s too easy.
But the pieces that accidentally
wandered in the dark and got lost.
The pieces of herself she forgot
were there.
She takes her time,
finding these pieces and putting them
back where they belong.

When she speaks,
her tongue is like a hammer,
hammering every nail that needs
to be put into place.
Even if she misses and, instead,
hits her hand,
she doesn’t tear everything down
regardless of how much it may benefit her.
She repositions herself
and starts again.

She is the poem I never wrote,
but always wanted to write.
As hard as it is to start again,
she’s never afraid to start again

"You made it look easy," they whisper—
A phrase that echoes, hollow and sharp,
Cutting through the quiet of my solitary journey.

Navigating parenthood alone,
A military spouse stretched thin by distance,
Selling dreams as fragile as glass,
Balanced on the edge of every choice.

A diagnosis presses against my chest,
One child in my arms, another learning beside me.
Battles hidden behind closed doors,
Invisible to those who see only the surface.

When I bared the depths of my soul,
Resilience bloomed like wildflowers—
Not a cry, but a roar.

Judgments swirl around me—
A storm of misconceptions,
Echoes of untold stories etching my truth.

Others glimpse my path only when they walk similar roads,
Their perceptions shifting like sand,
Revealing the landscape of unseen struggles.

My journey is not a blueprint,
Nor a promise of simplicity.
Each step a singular rhythm,
Each challenge a raw, unscripted melody.

I didn't make it look easy;
I made it look possible.

Resilience is not a performance,
But a quiet, fierce rebellion.

No shortcuts, no easy roads—
Just forward motion,
Carved from determination,
Etched with survival's raw grace.

put down,
you put up.
spill your guts -  
left with the cleanup.
your head is ******,
but unbowed.
invictus, you shall rise -
any day now.

the trials of morrow
lay vast and grey
waiting too see
if you let them prey -
on your mind,
your body,
your spirit,
your rage.
stay average,
or usher the golden age.

wipe the sweat
off your brow.
take a step back
‘fore you take the prowl.
glory is nigh,
do not haste, nor disavow.  
hush little soldier,
any day now.

Dear World,
You owe me.
You are indebted to me for a year of joy
for each minute of anguish I have endured.

Dear World,
you owe me.
You owe me a day of respite
for every fleeting second of stress I endured

Dear World,
You owe me
you owe me yet another half a lifetime
for the cherished childhood
that was unjustly snatched from me.

Dear World,
You owe me
you owe me a new heart,
a worthy substitute
for the one
that has been mercilessly
turned to dust.

Dear World,
You owe me
you owe me a renewed mind,
one liberated from terrors,
freed from the traumas
I did not solicit,
free
from the haunting memories
I endeavored so fiercely to erase,
Free
from the faces of those who inflicted pain upon me,
free
from the anguished cries of my brother,
of my sister,
of my mother,
of my family,
and of myself.

Dear World
You owe me
You owe me
Most significantly
...................................................­....
Esteemed Human,
I,
do not owe you
a single thing.

We are seedlings,
Needing a little nudge to the earth
Where precipitation is rife
For newfound birth.
Not choking in a bag, deprived of life
Whilst the storm can shine our worth.