Transformation
I haven’t written a single piece
in 2 weeks.
During that time, I lived humbly
conducting my research in my little laboratory
pondering upon all sorts of questions in my head
about what I would tell my younger self.
I watched the sunrise and the sunset.
I heard the birds chirping aloud and leaves rustling in the wind.
I experienced the busyness of the day and the idleness of the night.
September’s sweet dust gathered on my windowsill,
and lizards hid in the bends of the walls.
I’ve taken long walks
craving one thing only:
lightning.
transformation.
you.
You are the bits of my bones that remind me
in the middle of the night that
tomorrow might just be the day that I make it.
I know, there was a time
where you only felt nothing else but pain.
Even when things are going to shit
and you hated yourself,
you never stopped believing
and that; made me strong(er).
You cried at 5 A.M’s to make it one more day,
to see the world for the better things for a few more hours,
watch the sunrise, and reminding yourself that you had dreams…
I get to chase them because you held on for years.
You chose to write, sing, dance
and be one with nature,
so that I could breathe.
And I breathe better now.
You fed yourself after hours of insomnia.
You made this body, work and grow.
You finally grew your hair and made a ponytail out of it.
Look at you now.
Alive and loved.
You survived.
You made it.
And I did too.
This poem is inspired by Safia Bartholomew’s and Kanaar R. Bell’s prompts. If you want take a shot at this, you can find the prompts below.
