Trousseau of Hope

It does not feel like being dead after a long time,

As though somebody awoke you after decades of good night’s sleep,

Only this time I wander about not knowing what to do,

Making decisions that make my chest feel heavy with regrets.

A good thing came along the way,

Packed with sunshine, colors and sprinkles of smiles that keeps you awake at night,

But the heart had turned cold holding on to what it thought was impossible,

Incapable of admitting and accommodating the reality it had longed for ever.

You see, hope is a beautiful thing,

When you get to go home or smell the air after a good rain but,

It becomes only next to love in the list of things that does not almost kill you,

If you are lucky you will get your heart broken only a couple of times.

Why do we have to trade between two good things at the same time?

How are we even supposed to decide what is right and what is more important?

Only in hindsight can we see it bear the fruits of our passion but,

It is suffocating to keep gasping for fresh air in the middle of the nights.

They say what does not kill you only makes you stronger,

Life goes on for better even with certain crucial parts missing,

We build more spaces in our memory palace to store the happy moments yet to come but,

You and I both know that emptiness still looms in places where it should not and it’s not gone.

I would wait for the birds to flutter their wings in unison and fly to great lengths of distance,

With their family, their baby birds and with the other adult bird friends whom they love so much,

I would wait for the sun to drop against the sky full of stars,

Leaving hues of pink to hold you in my arms.

Paradise can be found anywhere if there’s an intent for it,

You have to be free of attachment,

Of people, of things, of that damn big pie you hold on to reluctantly,

Simple things can be traded for comfortable ones but,

Are you sure your conscience wants you to do that?

Until next time, Readers ☺