As she walks carelessly, barefoot on the sea sand,
Fluorescent, luscious moonlight dawning on her face,
She thinks about the time she could've let all this end,
If only her courage was just enough to fight against her case.
She wasn't regretful, while she stumbled upon a pebble,
As she could not have a child of her own, a child as delicate as a petal,
A child she could use to shield herself from those demons,
Those monsters who think woman without a child should be disowned.
She sighs, as she watches bright weeds and turtles floating around,
Reminiscing about those times she was still young and innocent,
She thought she had made some genuine friends of town,
But now when she's older, everyone's busy being a parent.
This world indeed needs too much from us, she wonders,
Why can't we just be ignored and live our lives as we want?
Sometimes, she wants to fight back and face all those thunders,
The other times, she wonders if she's asked too much from heaven to grant.
Walking down the hall, she closes the door behind her,
Amber eyes bearing the emptiness of her irrecoverable loss,
She slids down the wall, tears of regret making her shaky vision blur,
Her lips rembled in agony, for not to get her muffled voice across.
With shaky fingers, she grabs the papers on the table and signs them,
Wondering if she'd ever be able to live any longer with so many regrets,
Lost and hurt, she walks up the hall stairs, her nighty mingling with the haunting night,
Finally, she grabs hold of the highest bars, her inner self in turmoil, her fingers curled in determination.
She thanks her parents for being always supportive, being always right,
In this moment, she missed them the most, she missed their sight,
Her honest wish was to see them again in heaven, see them again in blue,
She thinks demons inside her hated her, but in fact, she hated herself too.
She doesn't feel the cold from the white flaky snow below her feet,
As she closes her eyes and breathes for the first time, truth beneath,
As if she'd been suffocated while smiling, laughing and pretending to be okay, pretending to be low,
She takes a leap for her life, her scars, her screams, her pain, all buried in the snow.
[Author's Note]
I really am telling you, without being modest, that I've a near-to-decimal talent in writing a poetry. I'm so much into writing stories that here also, I ended up actually narrating the piece of a tragic story that I'd never actually get the proper time to pen down fully in a single book.
I was thinking about writing the happy ending but then I suddenly decided to go for the other side of the social stigma of infertile couples, especially women in India.
So, what lesson/moral/message did you actually get from this poetry? Share if you've something relatable in this context to say.
