I sail ahead to uncertain seas. My captain, the one that drives me, he uses his only map to navigate all throughout this journey. Sometimes, the weather is as kind as a clear, refreshing bottle of water. Other times, a gentle breeze or faster wind would compel me to go beyond my usual speed. Oftentimes, rains would meet me like a friend that's politely pouring beverage into my cup, or vice-versa. Rains can also be like friends, fighting, or actually just having a misunderstanding. Anyhow, I continue travelling in these uncertain seas. Looking back, aren't rains actually helpful? Without them, I wouldn't be where I am right now. Why? Of course, it's the water cycle. Without precipitation, these bodies of water I'm on will be gone through evaporation. There are times when these outpours become storms and waves appear overgrown. My captain looks at the map steadfast and decides where I best go according to his judgment. In a number of detours, my captain discovered treasures. However, this time, we found ourselves surrounded by mist: tiny droplets of water in the air makes it difficult to see. I have hope, nevertheless, and always will: like before, I know that this situation will turn for the better. I have hope, indeed, and always will: that my captain and I will certainly arrive someday in the Paradise that we, O, so Hope for.
As if peeping out from it's golden veil,
A diary beneath the heap of autumn leaves, to reveal,
Lied silently waiting for the tranquil winds to blow,
To catch the sight of passing eyes, under the Sun's glow.
I felt as if it had held my feet, I couldn't move further,
Leaving me with no choice but to stop and bother,
I lifted and carried it along, every step elevated my zest,
To unroll the bunch of secrets buried within it's chest.
The moment to unleash the truth had arrived,
To speak about the harshness of life that someone survived,
To enjoy the flavour of those pages with a cup of coffee was my goal,
But I damped them, reading the plight of the withered soul.
The words tried to liberate from the cage of sorrows,
The lines that had shaken off my soul to the core are as follows,
"I want to kiss your forehead, O son, please come soon,"
"The way I used to do, while reciting rhymes of the sun and the moon."
"I want to embrace you tight, rest my head on your chest,"
"My life sheds a bit each day, I wish to spend with you, the rest,"
"The lullabies that you liked to listen while lying on my cradling laps,"
"I sing them every night to summon you, to fill these lonesome gaps."
"I have heard, my friends and others gossiping that I am ill,"
"I hallucinate your presence, each moment I try to kill,"
"So many calls I make to the number I scribbled on my wall,"
"I run to the lobby every time just to learn that it isn't your call."
"So many desires die within me each night that bloom every morn,"
"To behold you, touch your face, kiss your forehead, once again hear the word, 'Mom',"
"I know my son has a habit of being lazy and late,"
"But mamma would never be too tired to wait."
The next page was the last that bore some blur words scribbled,
As if the ink was about to get over, the last drops struggled,
“I feel may be you'd come after get silenced, may be then, my diary would speak aloud,”
“I'd be still waiting for you to touch my face for the last time to cover it with the shroud.”
Two red magical lines on that plain white slab,
Her fingers quivered holding it, glowed her eyes, dull and drab,
Garth of her womb, a year ago that had withered,
Was to bloom once again, her prayers got answered.
All the pain and struggles were taking her ahead,
Towards the day when was to be blessed on delivery bed,
The biggest sacrifice she was to give was to place a comma to her career,
She forewent them all, sleep, diet, likes and desires, in the urge to be a mother.
But less did she know soon she would be like a golden fish,
In a small pot, covered with black , her aura would soon perish,
Lockdown had closed all the doors for her to meet her beloved,
With her new born locked inside four walls, a year felt like more than a decade.
Post- natal depression took a toll over her calm and patience,
But she was to bear all alone with no help, for the sake of her bundle of innocence,
That's when while lactating she scribbled her tears on her palms,
Still holding her bairn close, feeding him in the warmth of her arms.
The carousel of time did revolve with an enormous vigour,
The door of social media, to unveil the power her pen, smilingly enticed her,
She's now connected to the people all over her country and beyond,
So many brothers and sisters she has now to love her, apart from her blood bond.
The applications she seldom used before due to lack of time and interest,
Like Instagram and watsapp, Facebook and Twitter, has pulled out the best,
Staying inside her house to safeguard her infant from the ill effects of the deadly virus,
She no longer feels lonesome as social media has connected her with the universe.