Conversations with the other side

As I was laying on the bed,

With my eyes staring at the ceiling,

It came to wake me again.

It showed me all the places that felt like home,

None of them were happy,

None of them smiled,

But the look on their face told me a story.

The tears they cried healed the very grass they laid on,

And there was no shoulder they rested their bleeding head on ,

When I met eyes with them,

There was acceptance,

Acceptance of pain, heart ache and sorrow,

I did not see any flower,

But tall grass and trees,

And thick ivy so no one could ever find me,

The only voice that echoed in my head

Was but my own,

Saying, “this is it kid, you can rest here.”

I stayed there for as long as I could see

And it turned me into a madwoman writing poems

About the indelible sadness that lived in her soul

So she called it her home.

-

Mauli Nautiyal