My word is Mukelabai,
A consciousness so sentimental, laden from birth.
Move through a concept that causes grief.
Will I thrive through this pain?
Will I survive this strain?
I am trying to survive with scars on my integument,
Yearning for self-love, but overwhelmed by jealousy.
Thrown and twisted, wishing for a ray of light's grace,
Seeing shadows lurking in elbow room.
A strength lies in deep buoyancy, thriving to avoid decline.
Born with a hard-bitten yet stubborn nature to fight,
Life's safari is damaged with pain,
Born at a bad time but not born in vain.
YOU ARE READING
WHO CURSED YOU IN SILENCE?
PoetryAs I stood at the line of silence, death in my darkest days, a bird sang within me, "Who cursed you in silence?" It was the darkest days I asked myself. How am I going to change blue to purple? This question became the catalyst for my odyssey from s...
