She

Born wild – Born different  – Born differently  – Born to prayers

Born into chaos – Born from the gods – Born close to ghosts

Born weird – Born confused

Born old – Growing young

One could tell , Some could tell

She was different – She was not like the rest

Born strong – Born wrong -Like a song

Played backwards.

She lived. She was curious. She was surprised

She talked to the trees. And the trees talked back

She asked lots of questions. Of the butterfly and the earthworm

And sometimes the dragonfly. They didn’t mind, often

She wandered -Unafraid

To the boundaries of the garden compound wall

Beyond which was the world-That gave her strange glances

Intrigue and sometimes fear writ large in their eyes

That was when she ventured and explored

beyond thin boundaries of her own mind

She knew she was crazy in a way

And she though it was delicious

Born with eyes open-Born too clever – Born too dump

Born with words tumbling incoherently

As she tried to swallow the world with her dry tongue

It hurt.

She grew

What else could she do?

She was like the wild weeds

She was looking for more seeds-She felt the feelings

That others discarded-She made her garden ..of weeds

She felt the wetness of rain -And the weight of each drop differently

She could see the soft grey cloud melting-Finally letting go

Reminding her of her own grief-Thick grey full

She felt the agony of the mosquitoes-When the black smoke-gun guys came and killed them – She suffocated

She felt the struggles and rejoiced -As the little seed broke into a two leave clover

She felt born again..and again ..and again.

And she died again ..and again and again.

She cried at dawn-When everything was ruined and torn

She was ill-She was still-As the world and the sufferings came gushing in.

She wept and she swept-Under the carpets

Where people hid their fears, and shame and disappointments

Some had her name on it.

Some regrets were kept wrapped in pink shiny paper as Christmas gifts – a poor excuse for the absence

She had tripped many times

That is when she started changing -Closing up -Hardening – Pretending

Trying to fit

The sky frowned-The caterpillar stopped his mindless eating to look up

The earth sighed-And maybe died-A little

Like her

She felt she had a task-She had to wear a mask-That was the ask

Of the world-She thought.As the world ‘conformity’ sought

She did. Her way was rebellion

That was the mask

Born first-You learn fast-Burn fast-Get empty and hardened like a cast

Many will be created in this mould-The mould, will remain empty

She has been left at the altar-She has been bruised by the pain

She has been touched without permission-She has been judged without trial

And yet…Yet -She will grow-She will show-She will march into the fire

She will stand in the piercing rain and sometimes be the holding cloud

She will perch on the tops of trees and balance

She will tumble in the rivers and sometimes change its course

She will ride the tornado and sometimes become it.

She will lay down on the soft earth and let the worms breathe in and out

She will.-Because that is what she is made of

The Earth -The Fire – The Water – The Air – She is the Space

She is the face – She is. – And there is no excuse.