The Thirst to be Alive

Written by Nirnita Chakraborty

Low clouds and squalls of driving rain,

bring along the magical drops of hope

or just tormenting constraints again?

Slumped in intense dejection;

despair spears her heart.

Yet, her agony shrouded by a vivacious smile;

her face is an art.

Thoughts incarcerated and the mind bewildered,

Dignity was all, that mattered.

The excruciating pain her heart had endured predominated these dreadful and unsightly scars.

Little did she know about this monstrous species,

until some gruesome hands attempted to defile her effortless elegance.

Screams and screeches no one could hear,

Hands of loathsome behemoths probed her body from top to bottom,

And piercings that she could not bear.

Parts of her body and face smeared with blood and bruises all over.

Neither was she unconfident nor unassertive,

Rather a lady with complete faith in her convictions.

Blameworthy was her fate,

For it snatched her voice in perpetuity.

Caged in her thoughts,

still a thirst to live better and with certainty.

Each time they chased her,

scratched, tortured and hurt her;

she lost her pride.

Yet each touch and every injury ignited new fury in her.

They left her on that four-legged shack to slumber eternally.

But her thirst to live resuscitated her.

She survived,

And vanquished those monsters alive,

In the spiky journey of life.

Would the rain wash away all her misfortunes?

Or it will bring the worst deluge ever?

Would the rain be an emollient to her wounded heart?

She shut her eyes in anguish,

And when she opened them,

her eyes illuminated than ever before.

And her spirit exuberant.

She carried her optimistic self with pride as her crown

and robed herself beautifully in grace.

Wandering in search of an abode,

where imperturbable tranquility reigned.

Ah, what a peace!

Poise recovered,

Self-possession permeated the air all over again.

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