Wingword Poetry Prize 2020 is now open. Submit your poems today!

Diary knows the best

By Shiney Miracula
Dear Diary,
Two more minutes, please tarry.
Then the day is going to be new
My hopeful prospects for the next year are few 
As my birthday falls on tomorrow
And it's eve itself drowns me in sorrow. 
What just have I did all these years
Except for battling my nights through tears? 
Days pass into months and years into decade
Are all my dreams, desires and passions going to come alive or just fade
Away. I don't work good enough for my name 
Is the commonest blame
I always hear, but they do not know my story. 
My mother's narrative of my dramatic birth is something I usually recall at times of worry. 
When I was in her womb for the sixth month, she accidentally banged her stomach in kitchen cylinder.
Maybe that came first in the long line of unintentional blunder
Regarding my birth. Then came along the due date
But there was no symptom of my arrival and all waited impatiently as it got alarmingly late
Before the doctors decided to operate
My mom, only to find out that the placenta is wringing my neck, which is a lot to debate
In that emergency situation and while they somehow started the surgery
There goes the power supply and it is not the only hospital in India with imperfect machinery. 
They simply couldn't activate the electricity generator
Where outside, everyone was pleading and praying to the creator. 
And at last when the power resumed
Most of them assumed
That I could've been dead.
Much to their surprise, I was alive and good, in bed. 
After six months, my mom once slipped me off in monsoon waters
Flooding through the road canals, and still I am out and well once again, traveling in my life's quarter's. 
This is what my mom told me the reason for my name; 
Shiney, to shine well in life, winning a lot of fame
And Miracula, for miraculously conquering the complicated birth.
Looking back now, I realise lately there is a dearth 
Of miracles, pleasant surprises or anything spectacular
In my life. Everything just feels monotonous and circular. 
To many people around me, I am a lively entertainer
And for some, I am a boring introvert and a pessimistic philosopher.
I do not share my thoughts with lots 
Of people. I am also not good in nurturing friends like plants in flower pots. 
My worst fear in life is ending up as nobody
All I want, is to become somebody and help everybody. 
And dear diary, you are all I have got
To share my fears, desires and when I am not really not 
Okay. And I have been thinking a lot 
That I would not be the person I am today if not 
For all the pain and bitterness I went through
And overcome the days which did not showed a single clue. 
Someday, if at all I have achieved something great
Everyone will talk and contemplate 
On the success I hold in possession
No one will have any idea better than you, about the fruitless days of recession
I have won over, crossing every obstacle,
And I have finally realised, survival is my miracle. 
Inspite of long nights
Losing fights,
Hopeless days and 
Closed ways 
You have stayed with me, sharing my pain
Without showing judgement or disdain.
By just existing and bearing my writing, you helped me become a strong woman out of the little girl
I have been. And I have learnt for good, that pain is the real ingredient in the evolution of a pearl.

3 comments

  • I always believe in this saying “you are neither inferior nor superior you are just a special one”….really…. both you and your poem is special..great work….let your dreams always shine miraculously…

    Nimisha
  • Awesome . Perfect words are used….

    Priyanandana Bhanja Deo
  • A fighter yourself! Really inspirational story you got there😊

    Zenzen

Leave a comment