Cascade
Life in a canvas.
The girl in that not-so-common canvas
walks like walking some petty stairs.
There are woods ever so grassy
The gusts are playing, cold and bitter, across that hair.
Wet and I won’t announce her witty
To walk that waterfall, an array of cascades,
Upwards, making it seem like nothing
This painter sketched something; connecting.
Flows of hurdles spattering on her face
Her fragile soul in that splendid cascade.
Not unduly tall, nor extremely high
The waterfall could be, but it is, it is massive.
She crawls in inches; slithers down
Bruises are next, and the shrieks are the concluding ones.
And she lasts!
In those airs of hidden melancholy, how’s she still so gritty?
This is a piece of fiction. The canvas I describe here is entirely fictional and the girl scaling up the waterfall, too.
This poetry is an explicit reference to the nature of our lives. Life is full of hurdles, hardships, and all the suffering secured in a giant bubble. Occasionally, this bubble just bursts and it feels like we’re traveling against the flow of water in the quest of creating or executing something unique.
This girl right here feels the same. She’s standing in front of a waterfall in misery, but then, too, while being cornered by doubts, she’s still trying to climb up.
The elegance of the waterfall speaks for the beauty of the unique thing that we would form after we’re done climbing up. Whereas, water pouring down in a series of cascades points out the fact that there’s still a path, a tough and rough one, beneath that waterfall. The path awaited to be walked on by us.
Thank you so much for reading!
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