As a young girl,
who wore her heart
on her sleeves,
I’ve placed
trust in every
palm that
was held before me.

I drove out, given, taken
laughter where it suited.

My dreams were stories
I openly told people
who would lend me their ears.
In return, they treated them
as if they were gifts
they were too eager
to receive.

The questions I had
were met with answers
as if my life and theirs
depended on them.

The thrill of growing up
and knowing my words
could pull people
like magnets was a gift
I took for granted.

I discovered that words,
that left the tongue,
and fell on ears
and caught by eyes,
was like a daisy,
plucked from the roots,
never to bloom again
from the earth,
but would forever
seek residence
in the heart and
foster in the mind.

I found that words
could be both –
the reddest of roses
and sharpest of thorns.

Slowly, unknowingly,
the sleeves of my shirts grew longer.
Open and willing palms turned into
clenched fists.
laughter was unlike the oxygen
I breathed.
it was a rare stone,
worked hard for,
slaved over,
only to find out,
on occasion that
they were fake.

(I doled out laughter and smiles
as if I had them in abundance
to get me in and out of
situations that suited me.)

I didn’t know.
I was already a player
in the game of pretend
they called ‘adulthood’,
which I thought was a myth,
but all too well,
discovered, bruised,
burnt, that no one plays
this game willingly,
but we’re thrust upon it,
pretending to know the rules
from the get-go.

no wonder when I was a child,
the adults craved
the company of the naive girl.
realization struck me –
the innocence of a child,
is unlike the innocence
of an adult.
the innocence of a grown up,
is a weapon of destruction,
whereas to a child,
it is a shield of comfort.
It is endless possibility and hope
until it is broken down
by messy hands
and clumsy tongues.
but rebuilt with the will
and strength formed from
years of falling down.

Advertisements

That is How I Met Hope

after a resigned sigh,
she said “you are amazing.
you deserve the universe
and all good things in life.
but you have to realise
that sometimes, what you want
isn’t always what you need.”

and I looked at her.
really looked at her.
seeing the hollowness behind her eyes
for the first time since we’ve met.
my heart squeezed tight.
almost to the point of unbearable pain.
I wanted to ask her,
‘who hurt you so badly
that you started to believe
that you’re unworthy?’

but I don’t.
instead I say,
“i have all I need
in front of me right now.
do you trust me?”

she nods slightly.
what she’s not saying is
that she doesn’t trust herself.

so I assure her,
“leap. and I promise
i will not let you fall.
instead, i will teach you how to fly.”

i have never seen a flower
bloom before my eyes.
but in that moment,
if hope was a flower,
then by God,
does it bloom beautifully
behind her eyes
and her smile.

I can string together a million words
just to let you know of all the reasons
why you shouldn’t give up.

Maybe I should,
pick all the most profound words,
assemble the most eloquent sentences
and bind them in thousands upon thousands of paragraphs
take all the ink and paper the world has to offer,
so thick it’ll keep you warm on the coldest of times.

Or maybe I won’t.

Because when you’re so used to getting hurt,
you don’t realize the people around you hurt too.

Because you feel like you don’t matter.

Then why would our words matter? Why would we matter?

We don’t.

So why do I still do it?

Because I believe my words drive the haze away.
Because I hope you’re reminded that there’s something to look forward to.
Because I think you somehow hear me in the thickness of the silence.
Because I don’t want you thinking no one hears you or sees you or just know you’re there.

But in spite of all the “I’s”
There is a you that drives it.