Kingdom

-
Kingdom

She was never a kingdom,
yet they called her one.
Not because she wore a crown,
but because they dreamed of conquest.

They traced invisible borders
across the landscape of her body,
counting her silence as surrender,
mistaking her kindness for an open gate.

To some, she was fertile land,
a field where they hoped to plant
their names, their pride, their legacy,
believing love was another form of ownership.

They built castles out of promises,
raised flags stitched with desire,
and wrote laws that praised devotion
while quietly demanding obedience.

They admired her beauty
as kings admire a distant country-
not for its songs, its rivers, or its people,
but for the glory of possessing it.

Yet beneath their maps
flowed rivers they could not chart,
and beneath their footsteps
lay mountains that refused to bow.

She learned that a heart
is not a throne to be occupied,
nor a soul a province
to be taxed by another's will.

So she gathered the names
they had carved upon her,
washed them away with tears and courage,
and stood without their permission.

For she was never a kingdom to be conquered,
never a land waiting for a ruler.
She was the maker of her own seasons,
the keeper of her own dawns.

Whoever wished to walk beside her
must come without a sword or a crown,
for love is not conquest,
and a woman is not a kingdom.

She is the sky beyond every border,
the sea that refuses every chain,
the earth that belongs to itself-
vast, free, and forever whole.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Solitary Road

-
Image
  The Solitary Road ****************** I have never walked this winding path before, Nor known what secrets wait on either shore. Before my eyes, the dusty road extends, Into the mist where sight and distance ends. *** Upon the clay, deep footprints mark the ground, Where time keeps watch in silence all around. Before my time, through shadows and through light, Unknown spirits walked into the night. *** Through steep ascents and rocks that bruise the feet, Past rusted iron spikes and blinding heat, I wander slow, with parched and burning lips, As sweat like drink from weary fingers drips. *** So many narrow lanes and shortcuts hide, Yet not a single sign to act as guide. But a weathered stone, worn down by wind and rain, Whispers to me amidst the steady pain: *** "The feet that climbed the mountain's highest peak, Will never fear the valleys, low and bleak." Some paths were paved with glitter, wealth, and praise, Some promised love to brighten weary days. *** Some left th...
Read more

The Refugee

-
Image
  The border was a wound drawn across our blood, A sudden storm that stole the earth we knew. The rivers forgot the songs they once had sung, And the sky no longer felt like home or true. We left our doors, our gardens, and our names, Carrying only memories in our eyes. A home is not made only of walls and flames- It lives where a heart can safely rise. I walked away with nothing in my hand, Yet carried worlds that others could not see. The dust of my homeland followed every step, A silent shadow walking beside me. I became a pillar made of fragile clay, Holding a roof of borrowed skies above. I hid my wounds beneath a quiet smile, And gave my weakness the shape of love. They saw the lamp that brightened up their night, The hands that stitched their broken dreams again. They never saw the darkness inside my soul, Or counted all the tears hidden like rain. I became the river that never stopped flowing, Even when the stones had broken me. I gave my mornings to their tomorrow, And bur...
Read more

Refusal to Fade

-
Image
  I refuse to fade away, To become one with yesterday, I want my mark to carve the sky, A lasting flame that will not die. Beneath the quiet shadows of forgotten souls, Lingers the silent echo of stories untold - People who once walked through this world, Their footsteps soft, their presence curled Into corners where no eyes would see, Into moments lost to memory. I wonder about those who lived this way, Leaving no trace along their day, No mark, no name, no voice to find - Only the fading hum of a quiet mind. They never intruded, never caused pain, Carried their burdens in silent strain, Gave up their joy for another’s sake, Their kindness hidden, their hearts at stake. Invisible angels in human skin, Who kept their sorrow folded within. And in the end, they slipped away, Forgotten beneath the world’s cold sway - Left alone in shadows deep, Where memories vanish and stories sleep. No photograph to call them back, No heartbeat tracing their silent track. So many souls who once stoo...
Read more

I, the First Sanctuary

-
Image
  I am the quiet fold of a woman’s embrace, the warm curve where the world first opens its eyes. From the foothills of my body, life climbs upward- every birth rising through me like dawn breaking over a mountain. I am the soft garden where lips learn their first language, the river that quenches the earliest thirst, the cradle where innocence curls in sleep, the harbor where trembling souls find their shore. Across me flow lullabies older than memory. In my tenderness hide the unshed tears of mothers who carried more than the world will ever know. I hold stories in my curves- dreams, longings, names whispered through centuries. Who has not traveled across me? Who has not rested in my shelter? In every gaze, every touch, every fleeting hunger, I see the reflection of the human race- a flame of need, a spark of hope, a fire that keeps life breathing. Sometimes I wander the world misread, misunderstood, like a traveler carrying a truth too ancient to explain. Yet I remain what I have...
Read more

The Lived Body

-
Image
  "I walk the line my senses weave, With eyes unlit, yet still believe. Each step a truth I cannot see, Yet always was, and always me." In this dance of daily life I stride, A silent compass set inside. With every step, a truth I find, A quiet knowing in my mind. The ground beneath—a pulse, a beat, A wordless whisper to my feet. My limbs awake, my muscles sing, Each motion born on hidden string. Without a glance, I sense the way, The arc, the tilt, my body’s sway. My joints keep watch through dark and light, A silent story in the night. The weight I bear, the breath I take, Each move a choice, each choice awake. My body is the eye that sees The wind’s soft hand in bending trees. I need no sight to walk the line; The space I hold is wholly mine. My hands will trace the cheek’s warm curve, My feet recall where they must swerve. The roads I’ve walked, the turns I’ve known, Are etched in muscle, nerve, and bone. I walk the line, I feel the flow, The muscle’s thread, the tendon’s ...
Read more

The Condom is the Conundrum(A Poem in Many Voices)

-
Image
They said in school, in chalk and charts, "Be smart, be safe, protect your parts." We giggled then, too young to see The veil between "just you and me." We laughed at packs with names like "Fire," "Ultra Thin," "True Love," "Desire." The wrapper popped — a rubbered rite, A killjoy in the heat of night. My friend Funny voice: “You got one?” “Yeah.” “It’s old.” “It’s fine!” We fumble through the great design. It squeaks, it slips, it feels like doom — Mood-killer king of every room. But pause — beneath the clumsy jest, A softer truth begins to rest. My poetic and Romantic voice: He touched her face, she touched his hand, Two people trying to understand. Not just protection, but a vow To guard the love they’re building now. Yet love’s not always soft and pure — Some use, discard, repeat, endure. My Dark voice: A stranger’s name, a motel bed, A life unlived, a word unsaid. The condom shields, but also shames — A whispe...
Read more

"Spectrum of a Human Life"

-
Image
In the beginning, barefoot we stood, Embracing the color of earth and wood. In the moonlit green, life was a seed- A simple breath, a primal need. Red was the dawn, a baby's first cry, The pulse of blood, the will to try. It burned with love, with sorrow's flame, And lit the spark from which we came. Orange laughter rang through the trees, Childhood danced on the morning breeze. Friendships bloomed with stories bright, Chasing dreams in golden light. Yellow glowed in curious minds, In questions deep and truths we’d find. Hope burned gold, a sun untamed, Each step a story, each breath unnamed. Green was growth, the earth, the heart, Of building homes and choosing art. From roots of soil to towers tall, We reached for more and feared the fall. Ages changed; coal-smoke rose, From moonlight’s hush to electric glows. Blue became our neon path, Progress wrapped in glowing math. But blue was also calm and storm, A quiet thought, a human form. Though digital tunnels fill ou...
Read more

The Unkindled Flame

-
Image
  Here I rest — A hollow echo where a heart once beat, A silent shore where restless waves now meet. I loved the burning pyre, its fervent glow, The fierce ambition, seeds I yearned to sow. Each spark a promise, each fierce lick of flame, Whispered of glory, of a spoken name. I held within me immeasurable potential, A universe of what could be, substantial In dreams, yet formless, never truly cast. A future glimpsed, too beautiful to last. Yet I achieved nothing. The grand designs, Became mere dust, unwritten, faded lines. My desires were endless, a consuming fire, That scorched my spirit, reaching ever higher, For joys unwon, for triumphs never known, A king without a kingdom, on a barren throne. But none were fulfilled. Each fervent plea, Fell on deaf ears, in vast, indifferent sea. Not a single moment of peace did I know, Only the anxious current, ebb and flow Of striving, wanting, a perpetual storm, No quiet harbor, no embracing form. No one to call mine, no hand to gently hold...
Read more

Inkless Songs-The Lotus of My Unwritten Words

-
Image
  Once, you were my only poem. You were the meaning and the letters in every line. Each breath I took rhymed with your name, Each silence between words echoed your touch. I wrote you into sunsets and folded you into the wind, Loving you in verses I never dared speak aloud. Lost in the rhythms that merged with you, I forgot myself. Your presence became my punctuation — A comma when I hesitated, A full stop when I fell. I blurred between the stanzas and your smile, Erased my own story to make room for yours. When my throat choked and words ran dry, I understood That even poetry cannot mend a breaking heart. That metaphors falter when reality sets in. You were not a lyric — just a lingering hum In a song that no longer plays. My poems were merely tear stains, devoid of script, Bleeding on pages I never meant to keep. I had confused your silence for depth, Your distance for mystery, Your absence for art. The ink, once vibrant, had dissolved into salt and sorrow, Leaving behind a barren...
Read more

The Mother and the Mango Sun

-
Image
  The sun, a molten coin, descends, Painting heaven in ember’s burning ends. A mother squirrel, her russet fur agleam, Ascends the mango ;alive within the dream. Her little one, a shadow soft and small, Clings to her back, hearing nature’s call. No spoken word, no lecture of the mind- Only the pulse of life she leaves behind: The rustle of leaves, a whispered rhyme, The shifting light, the quiet flow of time. They do not claim the orchard wild and wide, Nor fence the branches where sweet fruits reside. They simply taste, with instinct sharp and true, The gifts that rise from sunlight, earth, and dew. In gentle nibbling, a truth profound they find- A lesson etched in every creature’s mind: Life is not ownership, nor holding tight, But borrowing each dawn, and sharing light. A passing-on, a river’s quiet flow, From seed to fruit, and where the breezes blow. The mother stores no glittering golden prize, But wisdom’s gleam within her knowing eyes: How to exist; not win the endless fray...
Read more