#soulfulwriting
Evening had folded itself quietly around me when I walked into the temple....not with faith in my hands, but with a heaviness I couldn’t quite name.
My relationship with God had never been one of tears.
We were… silent companions.
I stood, I observed, I left.
But today, something within me softened....like a wall learning how to breathe.
And just when my thoughts began to sink inward,
a small disruption arrived.
A girl....startled, afraid....stood lifted above the ground on a cement bench,
escaping a creature far smaller than her fear.
A puppy.
Restless. Curious. Alive.
I called him.
And he came....not as a disturbance,
but like an answer I didn’t know I had asked for.
Tail wagging like a prayer in motion,
eyes bright with an innocence untouched by human weight,
he reached me....licking away something invisible,
as if grief had a taste he could recognize.
And I wondered....
Did he come to trouble her,
or to console me?
Because sometimes,
God doesn’t descend in divine forms.
He arrives in small, unplanned moments....
in paws, in chaos, in unexpected tenderness.
Then, like a second wave of quiet intervention,
she came.
A friend....not close enough to know my storms,
yet kind enough to sit through the silence of them.
She looked at me....eyes reading more than I had spoken.
“No exams… no love problems… no placements…” she guessed,
laughing lightly at the absurdity of life’s usual worries.
And for a moment,
I smiled....not because things were okay,
but because someone tried to make them feel that way.
She told me a story....
a silly one about rooms and washrooms,
a story with no purpose except to lift a weight she couldn’t see.
And that…
was enough.
Because sometimes,
friendship isn’t about depth or history.
It’s about presence.
About choosing to stay when leaving is easier.
Even when her world called her back....
voices pulling her away....
she lingered in fragments,
leaving behind a sentence like a quiet promise:
“Everything will get better.”
She thought she wasn’t a good friend.
But she was exactly what a good friend is....
a moment of light in someone else’s dim evening.
After they left,
I sat a little longer.
Not because I was still lost,
but because I was beginning to find something.
Then life resumed its ordinary rhythm....
assignments, sessional papers, small responsibilities pretending to matter more than they do.
I walked.
I reached a small shop....tea in hand, thoughts spilling into words.
And somewhere between sips and sentences,
I realized....
Nothing extraordinary had happened.
And yet, everything had.
Because maybe God didn’t answer me with words today.
He answered with a frightened girl,
a fearless puppy,
and a friend who refused to let silence win.
And as I sit here now,
thinking of going back with biscuits for that little soul....
I understand something gently, finally:
Not every prayer is spoken.
Not every answer is loud.
Some are felt....
in wagging tails,
in awkward conversations,
in people who stay just a little longer than they have to.
And maybe…
that is enough.
Apr 9
Apr 9, 2026 at 5:04 PM UTC
Those stars in the sky
They twinkle and say hi to me,
And that makes me happy.
The sea waves gently at me,
And my heart begins to flutter.
A light breeze touches my face,
And my mind begins to cherish the moment.
The clouds connect with me
Through different shapes,
And I feel I'm not alone.
The sun sends its rays and says,
“Rise and shine, my child.”
At night, the moonbeam glows,
Making me feel calm and fresh.
Jul 13, 2025
Jul 13, 2025 at 3:13 AM UTC
I believe in self-love.
I believe we shouldn’t depend on others for happiness.
But in the long run, we all need someone—
Someone who admires our efforts,
Someone who showers love and care,
Someone who stays loyal,
Someone who lifts us when we fall,
Someone to lean on—when self-care isn’t enough.
Is it too much to ask for just that?
Jun 15, 2025
Jun 15, 2025 at 1:17 AM UTC
Who am I?
How am I?
What am I doing here?
I am not my thoughts,
I am not my feelings,
I am not my mind.
I am a free soul,
I am a poet,
with a sharpened quill,
I am your mirror,
I am your wake-up call.
I write poetry,
stirring your soul,
confronting you with life,
waking you up from sleep.
I am calm,
I am joy,
I am peace,
I am love,
the food that nourishes the soul.
I enter carefully,
I step in slowly,
through the dark corridors,
where you never dared to go.
I do not come to destroy,
I do not come to harm,
rather,
I come to heal.
Let us listen to the silence,
quiet our minds,
and let our hearts speak.
Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 1:36 PM UTC
You stirred the ***
Taking parts of you.
Parts of me.
The good, the bad.
Even the things that aren’t
So pretty to look at.
And poured them into
The pan.
It’s easy to forget about
The hurt until you come
Face to face with it.
Sour peaches aren’t the end
Of the world.
No matter how we layer it.
These are the things we’ve
Come to love about each other.
Even the hurt becomes mixed
In a sugar glaze with enough time.
No matter how bitter.
The brown of my skin
Mixed with yours.
A recipe that’s been done
And passed down before our time.
No matter how much of a mess
We think that things are,
No matter how bruised a peach
We accidentally pick up.
Nothing can replace the warmth
Of a cobbler.
Straight from the oven.
Soon we’ll both be fast asleep.
Your head rising and falling on my chest
With each breath I take.
Jul 30, 2024
Jul 30, 2024 at 12:48 PM UTC