The Diva (A Poem by Men For a Woman)

A string,
in the process of becoming,
takes all the chances,
good, bad, ugly,
whatsoever;

She is in the pursuit of evolution,
for her, learning engulfs the word ‘judgement’,
happy because this is the only word
that resonates with her process.

Years pass by,
and she is still buckled into her own self,
still strapped by her charming, bubbly nature—

An only constant that she can afford,
she still yearns to evolve herself,
not realizing how many sheaths of evolution
her life already ensembles.

When she will realize,
she will start unfurling herself,
and in the process of deconstruction,
she will become an identity of identification —

Not herself!

Gratitude

What a thrill –
Shreds of flesh instead of a blood
splattering all over the floor.

Chicken broth is ready
Call the barren woman from the mosque.

A Journey of a…