EchoesOfSilentGrace
A soul is born weightless, nameless, pure-
It takes a body to endure.
To touch, to feel, to rise, to fall-
It needs flesh to answer the world's call.
And just the same...
This body of mine-warm, breathing, alive-
Needs a home in which it may survive.
Not just four walls and silent air,
But a place where love dares to care.
After marriage, they said, "You are home."
But I wandered like a prayer without a dome.
A sacred flame with no temple walls,
A poem unspoken, a voice that calls.
They dressed me in silk, in vermilion light,
But never asked if I slept through the night.
Their house was built on lineage and pride-
But where in those bricks was I meant to hide?
I smiled like a guest, walked on eggshell floors,
Each corner echoing locked-up doors.
I left my motherland, my girlhood room-
And entered silence dressed as a bridegroom's bloom.
But what is a house without embrace?
A grave with curtains, a roof in space.
No eyes that searched my soul to see-
No hands that built a place for me.
They gave me food, gave me rules,
But not the freedom to break their tools.
A soul needs a body to feel at peace-
And a body needs a home to release.
Not shelter from rain or shade from heat-
But a truth-soaked ground beneath my feet.
A window that knows my weeping face,
A room where I'm not out of place.
I became homeless, not in street or stone-
But in the absence of being known.
In every house, I was but a guest-
A body dressed... but never blessed.
And yet, I rise-slow, fierce, and still-
With emptiness now shaped by will.
If no home claims this sacred form,
Then I will build it in every storm.
In my silence, in my breath, in my art-
A sanctuary grown inside my heart.
For I am not lost, though no one waits-
I am the keeper of my gates.
Like the soul once found this mortal clay-
My home shall find me... one day.