I came from
rugged conversations
with my worn out soul
that sometimes
lasted for a second
and some other times,
for years.
I came from hollow
hisses of pain, tearing
itself through
numbed wounds
that hurt no more
but still traded
memories with time.
I came from large canopies
of anger
that heard no
footstep until
love entered.
I came from
hidden gestures of
war
that saw no fire
and felt no blood
and yet reminded
me of my birth.
I came from
the plunging smell
of dusted books
that made a home of
its own, letting readers
take shelter, anonymously.
I came from everywhere
I wanted to go;
sagging skies,
shallow shadows,
soaring solitude.
I came from simple things
that went unnoticed,
for only I will know
that I was a dream
that you no longer
remember.
Vasanthi Swetha: She is extremely passionate about the art of poetry, dance, reading and dreaming, and she believes that every poem that she writes is a result of a conversation with her soul.