LOVE...

 Love is such a confusing thing. I’ve tried understanding it

But unfortunately,

The more I try the more I get lost.

In slow west, jay thinks love is universal like death

My friends think I’ve lost hope in love, which at a certain point I think I’m almost.

At certain points, I question God, why He’ll let me get into something if He knows it’s going to hurt me in the end.

Some of my friends think I’m a mash mellow at heart, and call me “A hopeless romantic”

Because I get touched at heart by very little things, and tear very easily.

I’ll also say, successfully seduce my brain and you’ll have my body, but find my soul and you’ll have me forever.

With this I’ve mastered the art of  building shields, to shelter my heart

Now I fall in love with weird things of nature,

Like, how the waves dance gracefully in the ocean, 
 How the stars shine and twinkle as though in harmony with the moon,

How clouds drift away and close to each other, and the list goes on and on

Why, because this things will never hurt me

They never give me sleepless nights

They never make me sleep with tears in my eyes

Instead, they calm my spirit

They make me feel like a 9 year old held by her parents while asleep

They make feel safe and loved

They take me to a whole different world

Where I sleep with the biggest smile on my face

With a surety of the next day being better and happier

And In them my spirit finds refuge.

If I were Maya’ caged bird, I’ll love my cage being in the highest peak,

There I’ll watch all I love, and my lungs would be filled with fresh air

And I’ll be a free and happy spirit.

CHEERS!

BEING THE GIRL YOU ARE.

In Chimamanda’s words, women grow to master the art of pretense, but I think this art at times reaches a certain edge. Culture does not make people, people make culture, still Chimamanda’s words. 

Thus I’ve decided to make my own culture, a culture of boldness, a culture of not being sorry or apologizing for doing something good or anything that makes me happy. I read somewhere that, when you stop to throw stones at every dog that barks at you, you will never reach your destination, so I’ve decided to soldier on and do what is right to this world. 

Note, this is not because I don’t want to go to hell, (though I really want to go to heaven) nor because of some rules, but because it’s the right thing to do.

 I’ve grown accustom to like my skin, my body, my height, the way I speak , the way I walk, dress, and also love the size of my breast. Women grow up in shame as though they were born guilty to this world. 

They are made to feel ashamed of who they are and everything they do. It’s even surprising that you find people seated and the topic of discussion is the hair on your head. Women or ladies are people of diversity. They love to look good, I for instance, do a lot of things with my hair and I could braid it into long braids, plait lines or put a weave. What’s the problem if I look good in a nice weave, or as one of the poets would put it, if I funded the education of one or two Indian girls somewhere in this world?

In the spirit of #worldwomen'sday,... CHEERS!

THE FEAR IN ME!

I’m afraid

I’m afraid of losing those I love

Those close to the heart

Those I treasure more than my life.

God knows I do,

Because every single night before I sleep

And every single morning that I awake

I pray to God, so as no one should take their souls

For their health, love and joy is what I pride.

I love hearing my deep happy father’s voice

My sweet mommy’s happy voice

My lovely and sweet sibling’s voices

And my good friends laugh and joke.

If the eerie night could speak

It would tell of my fear

The fear of losing those dear

And close to the heart.

If you should hurt any of them

I prefer you hurt me instead.

Because either way, their pain is double of what I may endure.

I wish I was an elf, with some spell

Or someone immortal, powerful and omnipresent

Maybe my fear would half.