Put a pin in it

Finding the figures, the statues, epitome of excellence in their eyes

I wonder

Where are mine, if everyone had a few, I had none.

Looking around for context, I find

Put a pin in it, lest I forget

All those who stood up for me when I wasn’t even mine

A stranger in my own self, they recognised me and held on

A scrapped knee, a torn soul, it’s all the same until addressed

I did find the figures in life, and I lost them too, watching a film, scene after scene

The end is yet to come but I hope that I find more to give me strength,

To be the building blocks that I fear I have to complete before the film ends.

Soaring High

She was small, she was light
She had somewhat a little plight
All those who saw her
All those who knew her
Let her go, let her bleed
She was one
And one of a kind
Yet they threw her away
Oblivious to her, totally blind
She was white and she could fly
But too afraid.
What if she died??
All she had ever heard was scorn
All she ever felt was thorn
But she knew her aim was high
She had it in her to fly, that no one could deny
She was free to go
To move, to let them know
Once she shook off the dust from her wings
And took flight
Starting falling down
And suddenly Soaring High
Defying gravity, the laws of nature
She flew and crossed the horizon line
She never looked back
As she had found her place
Where she belonged
Where she shone!


Some days I worry less, but still gather strength 

Many days, there’s the same old routine; mundane

Other days I gather the wrinkled leaves

Bundle them up and burn them up

I enjoy the heat, the blaze of the flame

Some days, I find no leaves and I feel cold

A weary disappointment as I fall asleep in the freezing lap 

Many days, I find a log, a big one if lucky 

I worship it with fire and I mingle both together 

Fire and fuel,

Fuel and wood,

Wood and me

And me with the fire

Together we lit the nights, warm!

As the day betrays again and again

I find solace in the night 

With the leaves and the logs 

With the fire and the morning frost