Ashes

I walk through ashes
Left behind
From the fire 
that consumed my dreams.
The ones I concocted 
As a little girl
Sprawled on the grass
Under a tree
beneath the sky
Of chocolate houses 
And unicorns 
Swaying with the swings
thinking-
monsters are four legged
And fairies have wings.
The dreams 
Uninhibited Vast 
Lark, Open. 
 
Quite a fire it was 
Ignited by a spark
Of doubt. 
 
I walk through ashes
That fly
From the fire that
emblazoned my reveries 
The ones I concocted 
Sitting in the classrooms 
Bedrooms, parks and places 
Comprehending the
quagmires of the system
And their measures 
of artistry
Knowledge 
Decorum and
Duties  
Via books and lengthy monologues 
Telling me about the foundations 
And a way of life.
 
Quite a furnace 
it was 
Ignited by incongruity
Of the preacher that practiced
Hypocrisy and atrocities. 

I walk through ashes
Left behind
From the fire 
Which consumed my dreams
From when I was younger 
And walked with a 
Cloak of invincibility
That years 
Will bring clarity
Less, if not much 
Half, if not full 
And a Change
shall commence 
Sooner or later
For 
They must 
see their oversight,
their error.  
The dreams 
of walking alone
For those who seek love 
are weak and imbecile
And friendships don’t fray
Just as flowers don’t wither,
That honesty must win 
hard work must pay.
 
Radiant it was 
The pyre of 
My visions and dreams
Or lies force fed to me 
In legacy. 
 
And then the world tells me
They think I have changed
In ways they don’t recognize 
Of course!
Of course,
They do not recognize 
The immolation, the devouring 
Of my dreams, in the fire
That raged within me 
An inferno in my core 
That singed my soul 
Time after time
They tell me
I am not the same
But they do see a
Flicker of
light in my eyes
And 
a fleck of ember
When i speak
at times. 
Caught off guard
I don’t know what to say. 
I lean forward
Closer to their ear 
Unsure how else to cover  
I clear my throat 
And I tell them-
Likewise. 
 

Illusion

What if all

I had been

Seening till now

Was a mirage

An Illusion

My mind’s tricks

And games

And now that I have fallen

Flat on my face

The spell has been broken.

The Paradise has disappeared.

I see nothing for miles

Just me

Amidst a sea of sand

But I wonder-

Who tricked me?

A feeling tells me

From the memory or a dream-

Perhaps

I did.


I am Not an Object

art asian butterfly color
Photo by Miguel u00c1. Padriu00f1u00e1n on Pexels.com

I am not an object

but they tell me

to become one

To polish my scars

and my Blemishes

so my edges remain sharp

untouched by age.

Like I never fell

Like I never faced

life as it is.

Like I am new as ever

waxed and furbished.

and I do.

and I attract

other objects like me.

comes a day, they sense

I am more than what they see

fragile, vulnerable and shatterable

and alas, even human.

Some stay, some lurk

but I count my blessings,

for only objects that leave.