A space to cry,
A place to talk,
the urge in me to feel my liveliness,
rooted down in the dampness of the ground,
**
I look at the freedom I dream,
I bore my bare legs on the muddy field,
**
A presence I feel,
nothing more left for the silence,
but a touch, to weep and fly,
**
The honeybee as my shield,
unleashing the streams to zeal,
the strains to flee,
the pursuit of conversations,
belonging to soulful heartbeats,
**
I steal the time,
knowing, and making known,
how beautiful it is,
to be a mystery to the known,
a fullness in the unknown,
an inner chase to emptiness,
where I feel safe and sound.
About the Creator
Parvathi J
Through my pages, I find the quiet complexities of pain dwelling in a solitary space, burdening life’s endless demands, and unburdening the voiceless noise.
Witnessing the questioning, I speak the deeper silence of my voice.
IG: shruthilayam
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Comments (1)
"to be a mystery to the known," Oooo, that line was so deep. Loved your poem!