By Swati Singh
Some days I feel tired
Some days I feel weak
Some days I look at words I've written and they make sense
But I don't feel their passion or bravery.
Hopes, desires, trust and expectations
Are all one of the same thing
It gives us a reason to live
Be it a better job, a soulmate, a future or a good life.
I have a bad habit of only talking about the good days
But there are days I feel grey and empty
They exist even if I don't enter them here
Those days are still me but in pieces.
Today is one of those days where I walk down my disappointments
Crossing a grubby, packed bazaar
I see a man
Well a girl, a really tall girl blocking the harsh sun burning my face.
The out of towner girl held the hems of her long skirt
Her smile glowing in the golden hue of the sun
She looked so happy to witness the crowd
The shouts of the vendors, the cry of the babies, the horns of passing vehicles.
She watched the lamps hung out for sale in filthy corners
Radiating rays of yellow, gold and magenta
She didn't turn back to the people joking about her huge appearance
She kept moving forward.
She laughed seeing the magician perform tricks and I smiled
She came as hope, presenting strength to move on
To chase happiness and to turn your back to negativities
It's okay to be in pieces, you can't be luminous all the time and neither is the moon.