Shalmali Karmarkar
I chase the wind with barefoot grace,
Through hidden paths, the stars erase.
I speak in sparks, I dream in flame—
The world may shift, but I remain.
My heart’s a drum that won’t stay still,
It beats against the quiet hill.
It calls to skies that never sleep,
And oceans holding secrets deep.
They told me, “Fold your wings and wait,”
But I was never built for fate.
I’d rather leap from cliffs unknown
Than rot beneath a safer stone.
I rhyme because I have no choice,
Each line a howl, a rebel’s voice.
Each verse a blade, a burst, a breath—
A hymn that dares the jaws of death.
I write the ache that dares to bloom,
The laughter dancing into gloom,
The storm that breaks, then builds again—
From shattered skies, I harvest rain.
If silence comes, I’ll strike it loud,
A fire wrapped in flesh unbowed.
For even whispers, sharp and slow,
Can carve a path through stone and snow.
So here I stand, with ink-stained skin,
A war of light and truth within.
My poem is the place I run—
Where wild words blaze like morning sun!