A Poem by Simran Singh
BAJMC Sem 6
Is
it normal to miss what never existed?
To ache for a face, I
can't define.
To carry a weight, I
cannot see,
To
cry in silence where no eyes be?
I love the hush, I crave alone
Yet something in me longs
for home. A home not built, a hand not held, A whisper in me still compelled.
I
smile, I laugh, I get things done,
The world sees light, not what's begun to
quietly splinter deep inside,
Where even truth and tears must hide.
No
heart was broken, yet I bleed.
No
voice was lost, yet I still plead.
Years
have passed, and still I pine
For someone my eyes are
blind
I am whole, I am
complete, I am enough Still, some nights feel strangely rough. Not lonely, not
unloved, not wrong, just a soft ache that lingers long.
Maybe it's just the
weight I bear, Of being strong, of always there.
Of showing up, of
standing tall,
And wondering who catches
me at all.
I am tired, I am light, I am pain, I
am free, I am happy, and not—both living in me. So, what's wrong, you ask?
Maybe nothing at all…
Just a soul that's
learning how to fall.
And
rise.
Again.
Still whole.
Still wise.
No comments:
Post a Comment