On a Sunday evening, I was passing through the road.
Walking on the stones, on a roughly path.
I was lost in myself as I was searching for nothingness.
I was waiting to forget the past.
Trying to get rid of all the thoughts.
Getting ready to bear the fears.
I was wondering to collect the shattered peaces of my life.
I stopped near a park, walked on the grass.
I looked at a tree, standing still and silent like a mountain.
Alone but strong, broken but hard,
in it's solitude, immensely helpless.
I heard the heart-rending cry of leaves.
I felt the whispering of tiny little flowers.
I tried to read those words harrowed it's very soul.
I smelled the burnin' wounds of wood.
I thought it's me, wanting and craving.
To get watered with the love and affection.
To grow up with the strength and passion.
I sat under the shadow and embraced the tree.
I savoured with it few hours of freedom, peace and seclusion.
Poet's note :
It was a little difficult for me to portray loneliness. I opened some pages of my past and remembered all those days and nights I spent alone. For me, it's good to be alone sometimes. You learn your weaknesses and get to know how to be strong enough to deal with it.
©emotive
E