Dear Diary

By Swati Singh

Dear Diary,                                   

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.