By Aarathi Bellary
What if you had known me long ago?
Now, I am scarred,
with wounds of trauma,
shatters of abuse and drama.
Floundering guilt and shame,
pain of grief,
walked through hell,
lost in a whirlwind of emotions.
What if you had known me long ago?
When I laughed silly and loudly,
smelled the fallen flowers,
painted a house next to a gorge,
because why not?
Spoke of dreams like real,
cantering away joyously,
in the moment mojo.
What if you had known me long ago?
I recall the bruised wounds,
nursing them carefully,
with love, nurture,
poetry and coffee.
Brave, strong, courageous,
is what people called me.
Curve of your smile,
is the grace they said.
Who was I?
Before,
I knew the battlefield.
Before,
I knew I was walking on mines.
Before,
the wounds were inflicted.
before
words became poetry
Before,
I realised that to live is to survive,
the ways of this world.
What if you had known me long ago?
When there were no wounds.
When there were raw wounds.
When there were scars.
Some healed, some not.
When there was no poetry,
no words or rhyme.
When there were no tears,
just the tranquil silence.
Would you love me then?
Would you love me now?
Am I a stranger now or then?