A Good Life

You are the beat of my heart, Wonder why they call me mad, When reminiscing makes me smile, Why do they think I am sad? They know not when they lock me, These walls can’t keep us away, For you live in my heart, Where forever you shall stay. Often, I hear your chuckle, They think I’m hallucinating, The warmth of your hand feels real, Like the first time I was holding. The pain, though, must’ve been excruciating, I can say from the way you cry, But they hand me some medicines, When, to alleviate your pain, I try. They say you’re no longer there, I’ve heard them call me insane, But when they try to pull us apart, They cause unbearable pain. They tell me you’re just a dream, I should wake up to the reality, But if reality is without you, Then the dream is where I’d rather be. They don’t get what you mean to me, But you do, about that I’m glad, You are the beat of my heart, Wonder why they call me mad.

  A little lamp was her Sun, In whose light she tried to read, A torn book discarded by her brother, While the darkness, her friend, Kept patriarchal monsters at bay! On a quiet night as she read, Footsteps sent a shiver down her spine, From the darkness emerged her mother, Like a deity, her face glowed in light, Strength and confidence in her poise. “I want to study, mom,” meekly she whispered, As tears trickled down her cheeks, Her mother’s eyes welled up too, And though she knew the risk of it, “And study you will!” She declared that night. A brand new book found its way, To her tender hands for the very first time, So mesmerised she was by the scent of paper, “I’ll make you proud, mom,” she assured, “I already am, my love. I already am!”