Skip to main content

The Great Fig Tree

It's only in these wee hours of the night,when the city rests. It's only when the nights are so horrifying that I can no more convince myself to persevere.

I am a happy woman otherwise. It's rare that you don't  find me break out into fits of laughter at mundane jokes and grope my aching belly soon after

I am like that great fig tree with the vibrant aura of victory against autumn. So fresh and lively. The tree who has submitted her life to the virtue of kindness.That who apparently knows of nothing but joy. It's baffling how never ever could a living being fathom what demons she hides between layers of skin that accumulate to harden into the bark over the years of struggle between life and death. The tree that has faced all the winds slash through her soul up till this moment.

But the thought of storms scare her now. She is all but happy. A plethora of melancholic clouds have drenched her to the skin over time.

You say,  "Too bad. Sorrow will dilapidate her". Well, she knows better. But how often have you seen a tree chop herself just to grow new skin?

Storms disappear. Storms never really disappear.

Comments

  1. Wow, I felt like your writing was my writing. How could you know? Sisters in suffering - no-one really is alone. Thank you.
    Cbreeze

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hey there, This is great post which I found here. My name is Faiyaz Patel, I am the CEO & Founder of BingHuman.blogspot.in I am a dream chaser who has gained a wealth of knowledge in Human behavior and personal development over the past three years through self-education. My mission is to inspire millions of people to become entrepreneurs by awakening their minds to their greatness that resides within them. Visit My Site for more Information. BingHuman.blogspot.in

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Death Comes Closer

When the passion in my veins
becomes the poison in my blood
and death comes closer by a step
I will not shrivel in sudden fear
or dissolve into a mist of a pitiable plight
For even when I die
My words will illuminate lives with it's
perennial light.

A Nobody

The way your eyes smirk at my existence
and heavy breaths sublime under hallucinating lights
The rifts of your wet lips, abhorrent and unawaiting
On mine sometimes, sometimes gone
A lover's sigh, and poet's respite,

You.

The splash of aquamarine to my gloomy canvases.


Freckle

I was a virgin canvas
your lips couldn't stain

I had waterfalls inside my chest
your eyes couldn't contain

I ached in places
your hands couldn't touch

I spoke of autumns
words couldn't adorn much

So what you loved that beauty spot
on the edge of my waist,
Alongside thrived a freckle
you had already abandoned in haste.