As I'm wandering around the streets of Granada
My nose catches an evocative foody aroma
Of some cake or bread, I can't quite remember
The pleasant smell intensifies as I get closer
Hmmm...aah it's the scent of honey bread
I think and think trying to recall where I know the smell from
I can feel the synapses in my brain connecting and the memory about to come
It takes me back to sweet, sweet moments of my childhood
My mother used to make them all the time on off-school days
That's why I always linked them with good memories
Because eating them back then meant no school
Eating them back then meant staying at home
Eating them meant no responsibilities
Eating them meant my parents have got my back and I don't have to do anything
But now...now it's different...
Because eating them now means nothing...
Eating them now means I have to pay for them.. and reminisce over the sentimental past
It means being reminded that I'm on my own
My parents aren't my invincible heroes no more
They have their doubts and insecurities just like me..
The older I get, the looser my relationship gets with them
For at a certain point in our lives, they stop raising us
And we start raising ourselves by ourselves on our own
We have to face the darkness and cruelty of this world
It's the thing we've been waiting for for so long
But once we get there, it's not as attractive for us anymore
We're surrounded with criticism and opinions
To that we still have survival stress
People seem to always have an opinion about you,what you do, what you believe in, everything!
They give themselves the right to judge you
They think, they know it all
But the truth is, they know nothing about you
They know nothing about your struggles or what you have been through or about the scars you got because of that
They know nothing about your strength, your will or potential
About your beauty, your wit or sense of humour
They know nothing about you
We all have those moments of hardship and loneliness
We all suffer in very different ways, shapes and forms
Yet the most important thing is to remember that whatever we go through is moulding us into a better, smarter and braver version of ourselves
So no despair, for the harder it gets on us, the prettier the mould
YOU ARE READING
Honey Bread
PoetryIt's a poem reminiscing over childhood memories and criticising adolescent life. Hope you enjoy it and would be more than happy to hear your opinions about it.
