She is a Woman.

And as she

Walks to her

Future bright,

With shining


And decisions


She knows she

Is going to

Be okay.

She is a



She is a



Just be.

Eyes full of wonder,

She strode towards life

With a smile wide and regrets few.

She will one day write poetries about

The beautiful possibilities of being alive.

She will breathe and just be.

She will be.


Grotesqueness of possibilities.

She is like an angel:beautifully rare.

Terrifying possibilities surround me
Making me feel like there’s nothing left,
Nothing left to salvage.
I feel like everything has ended
Nothing more left. Nothing more.
But then comes she;
The light of my dark Black existence,
She comes to save me
From the ghosts of my chaotic webbed mind:
Webs of hatred, blackness, negativity
And that foreboding sense of doom.
It all resides inside me;
A company of demons of mistakes past,
And endlessly terrifying possibilities that plague the canvas of my future.
An ugly black tar-coated canvas blotched with dark spots of hopelessness.
A canvas that was supposed to be a picturesque sight,
With only sprinkling of golden dust of opportunities,
Bright saffron days,
Calm blue thoughts,
Vibrant green spread of soft moist grassy path to walk on,
Dauntless violet adventures,
And a sheer coating of mildew of glistening places I was supposed to go.
It’s a grotesque sight, the tar coated canvas
It makes me wanna retch,
The possibilities, the probabilities, the state
Of my doomed future.
It makes me wanna retch.
But she comes. Every single time she comes
And she saves me,
From falling head first into the abyss of swirling black tar;
Retch-illicting ugly black tar.
She saves me from the darkness.
She brightens the black room with no light,
And she makes me wanna open my eyes
To the possibilities.
Happy possibilities.
Optimistic possibilities.
She has always been my savior.
She is a savior.
Of broken people.
Of silent sufferers.
Of people with easily switched retch trigger.
Of everybody around.
The bright light; a wild yellow light.

P.S. It can be anybody. It can be anyone. It’s my mother for me,my savior.❤



I watch the sun go down.

A new morning is on it's way.

The sweet wind in my hair
The quiet company of one
My mind reeling with unspoken thoughts;
Brimming with the shadows of actions past
Remembering those silent warnings
And syncretic union of days gone by
And more to come.
Laughter sounding clear in my ears
Transporting me back to those joyous moments
And with it coming of the silent suffering:
The escaped tendrils fluttering in the breeze
Shake off the unwanted recalling.
The wind centres me;
Makes me want to focus on possibilities to come.
I watch the sun go down,
Beyond the horizon with the saffron hue,
The birds flying high to go back home
Leaving the shadows of struggles behind.
I watch the sun go down.
It will rise again;A new morning.