Fourlinegraphia

 In Kumarakom’s tranquil fields I stand, Beneath the sun’s gentle, warming hand, Yet shadows linger in my mind, A restless heart I cannot unbind.   The lake’s smooth mirror, calm and bright, Reflects a sky of purest light, But depths conceal a silent fear, A whisper dark, too close, too near.   The hum of bees, the rustling leaves, A melody that softly weaves, Yet in their song, I find a trace Of change approaching-an unknown face.   My faith, fragile as fragile can be, A wounded bird, longing to see The world as safe, as true, as kind- But cracks and fissures I find behind.   Memories sting like icy rain, Trust betrayed, a lingering pain, Promises broken, silent pleas, Lost in shadows, on trembling knees.   Life’s dizzy spin, a hurried race, Leaves me grasping for a steady place, To catch my breath, to find my ground, When all around is shifting sound.   My gut, a sentinel, speaks with voice, Warning of danger, of choice-...

  I built the walls with promises I trusted, Each stone a whispered hope, a shared belief. I called my fear devotion, so adjusted My view to see a world without much grief. I called compliance care, a gentle hand, And thought if we just huddled, shoulder tight, We’d weather storms and always understand, That closeness would somehow make everything right. But I didn’t see the fractures forming there, The subtle shifts, the silent, growing cracks. I was too busy building, lost in air, To notice trust was bending, then it snaps. I said we like it meant a common fight, A unity of purpose, shining bright. Like saying it would make us brave and true, Like words alone could see our visions through. But some stood still, their faces etched with doubt, While I stepped bravely into raging fire. They called it strength to watch me figure out The paths alone, fulfilling my desire. Beneath the talks of unity and power, A different game was quietly at play. Lived quiet contests, like a hidden fl...

  She blooms, a vine reaching for the sun, And suddenly, the furniture feels wrong, The room itself, a stage rearranged, undone, A silent song of what was lost for long. A different woman, watching from the side, (Perhaps it's you, perhaps it lives in me), Feels a small pinch, where dreams were gently tied, A life unspoken, told it could not be. We learned so young, to line ourselves in rows, To check our height against the girl next door, Safety, they whispered, only truly grows In shrinking down, and wanting nothing more. So when one rises, tall and brightly bold, It stirs a fear, a whisper in the bone, That her success makes our own story told, A little less, a little less our own. I know that feeling, in my own two hands, The urge to soften, dim my vibrant hue, To guard my spot, in these familiar lands, By holding back the grace I owe to you. How easy then, to let that instinct bloom, To spread a chill through silent, judging eyes, To build a wall, a space of shadowed gloom, An...

  There's a strange comfort in pain, a quiet ache in my chest, not a boast. It whispers, "You're not making this up." They were real, and the love hasn't gone to ghost. Folks say, "Focus on the happy times," like sunshine can erase a scar. But those times, they slice and sting, a phantom touch, a voice so far. A laugh that echoes, almost seen, then gone, leaving a hollow space. The pain that follows is a beast, but also a ghost of a loving embrace. Proof it wasn't a dream, or lie, that something touched and changed within. Fingerprints left on who I am, even after the joyful beginning of them did end. I don't crave this ache, this heavy dread, it greets me with the morning light. It tucks me in at day's end too, a constant companion through the night. Yet, a sliver of me knows, if it fled, the chain would snap, the anchor gone. Losing them again, a deeper wound, a world where their love for me never shone. So I let it stay, this bitter guest,...

 In this quiet gray shadow, I linger, Not lost, not fully here, Like a picture slowly fading, Its colors worn and sheer. I see my shadow on the walls, Where light once used to stay, Now softened by the dust of time, That settles day by day. I move through hours like drifting smoke, A ghost with measured breath, Breathing in, breathing out, Practicing closeness with life, not death. I float like boats on silent seas, Where hope is low and thin, Where feelings curl and fall asleep, And currents pull within. My eyes stay dry, no tears appear, No joy ignites my face, Yet sorrow doesn’t claim me too- I’m paused in this strange place. Just a steady hum of being here, Of staying, not retreating, A fragile thread I still hold tight, A life that’s softly beating. I answer when I must respond, I go where days require, I endure, I carry on, Though disconnected, tired. And maybe you know this space too well- Where feeling used to grow, Where warmth slipped out like evening light, And left a mu...

  I stand beside the quiet pond, the world hushed in reverence, the water’s glass smooth, unbroken, a mirror holding what I’ve lost and gained.   Beneath the surface, shadows drift- faint echoes of laughter, whispers of tears, ghosts of who I was and who I’ve become, fading into the depths I dare not touch.   My reflection ripples- not in defiance, but in acceptance, the face unchanged yet somehow altered, bearing stories I’m still learning to tell.   The eyes, familiar, hold a different light- a softer glow of knowing, a quiet acknowledgment of what remains and what has slipped away like water through fingers.   Thoughts drift like leaves- drifting, falling, unhurried- reminding me that growth is slow, that healing is quiet, unseen.   I search the surface for the person I was- the one who believed in tomorrow, who loved without fear, who thought the pain would pass.   But the pond offers only reflection- a truthful, unfil...

  There is a voice beneath the hush, A whisper carved from years of silence, Not fragile, not broken, just unseen- Waiting for the moment to be spoken. / You lean in, but hesitate- Not because I am distant, But because your words are afraid To touch the truth in my eyes. / I am not a shadow hiding behind curtains, Nor a story you tell in passing- I am the echo of your care, The pulse beneath the quiet. / Speak to me, plain and clear, Let the silence be honest, For in your words, I find my strength- Not in the hush that keeps me small. / I am here-whole, waiting, willing- To be seen beyond the whispers, Not a rumor, not a lesson, But a voice that demands to be heard. / And when you finally meet my gaze, You’ll see the quiet resilience- A woman unbroken by silence, Standing tall in her truth.