Grant me one more day

O Lord,

Grant me just one more day—

A day to be the daughter

Of my great father once again.

To shower him with boundless joy,

To embrace my lovely beard,

To honor my dense green heart,

And to fulfill every promise

To my heavenly gift.

O Lord,

Grant me one more day—

A day to smile into his eyes,

To rest within his sheltering arms,

To play our silly games once more,

Fingers entwined, laughter unchained.

To wander hand in hand

Through the winding, whispering alleys,

Living once again

As his carefree daughter.

O Lord,

Please grant me one more day

To ride behind him on our old scooter,

My voice streaming without fear - 

The wind carrying our laughter away,

As he boasted his old Dubai days.

Stopping for our favorite mango pulp,

Sipping memories in quiet delight—

Just a daughter and her Pappa,

One last ride, one last time.

O Lord,

Just one day—only one—

To be with my Pappa once more.

To touch his moustache,

The one I adored as a child.

To share my fears,

Knowing he’d wipe them away.

To hear, just once more,

His steadfast voice assuring me,

"I will never let you fall."

Bonsai's Lament

 I was meant to be a tree,

roots deep, branches wild,a

 whisper in the forest,

dancing free with the wind.

But you craved a quiet beauty,
a tamed soul in a porcelain home.
So you silenced my longing,
trimmed my cries into hush,
bound my roots in shallow earth.

My bark bears the scars of your shears,
my leaves darken with longing,
hungry for the breath of open sky.
Yet, in your world of careful order,
I bloom—small, obedient, still.

I am art, I am captive,
a wilderness carved into grace.
A tree that never touched the sky,
yet sits adorned in your gaze.

Red-inked quill

The red-inked quill

spills the rage of love,

as Cupid tumbles from heaven,

his arrows piercing hearts—

searing love’s tender face,

bleeding its fragile wrists.

Love dissolves in a dark, creamy syrup,

its poison rising like mist,

twisting through veins

with the hunger to avenge,

to wound, to kill—

all in love’s forsaken name.

To Pappa

Pappa, I hate you for leaving without a word, Vanishing from our lives, your voice unheard.

I hate you for departing with that gentle smile, Soaring away, leaving us in denial.

I hate you for the memories which bring tears,

Feeding our sorrow, amplifying our fears.

I hate you for not allowing us to bid you,

a farewell before your last breath,

Departing swiftly, leaving us bereft.

I hate you for concealing your final trip's plan,

Leaving us to grapple, to understand. 

Yet, Pappa,

We miss your tender care, 

Your laughter, your games, 

the love we'd share.

In our hearts, your memory remains,

A guiding light through sorrow's rains.

Though anger and love intertwine, We cherish the moments when you were mine.

Rest in peace, dear Pappa, 

as we find our way,

Holding you in our hearts, 

every single day...

The Unheard Cry

O woman, bearer of life,

Why did you wield that cruel knife?

Nine months I swayed in your womb’s embrace,

Yet now I am cast, erased without trace.

The cave of birth, once filled with light,

Became my tomb on that fateful night.

I dreamed of your arms, your gentle care,

But met the cold of a world unfair.

My first cry, a plea to be seen,

You silenced, hidden, wrapped in a scene.

Thrown as refuse, my life undone,

A nameless soul, a forgotten one.

I cannot call you mother, no,

For love and grace you did not show.

The worst of sins, the heaviest weight,

A fragile life, you sealed my fate.

The law may shield you, grant reprieve,

But my pain lingers, a wound that won’t leave.

O woman, your heart turned to stone,

I was yours, yet you left me alone.

Remember this cry, though faint it may be,

It echoes through eternity.

A child discarded, a story untold,

A life unlived, a grief uncontrolled.

A Plea to Santa

Oh, Santa, bearer of light and cheer,

Don’t bring hopes that wither, year by year.

For children starve, their dreams turn black,

In a world where kindness seems to lack.

If you must come, let it not be in vain,

Bring healing for hearts steeped in pain.

Jobs for the weary, lessons for the lost,

Peace for the strife, at any cost.

Selfish hands clutch what they don’t need,

While the helpless cry and plead.

So, Santa, this Christmas, let your sleigh

Carry justice to pave the way.

Not toys or tinsel, not fleeting delight,

But a spark of change in the darkest night.

Oh, Santa, hear this earnest plea,

Be the beacon of what we long to see.

Gentle Wind

O gentle wind! 

Ignite my spirit with your whispered song,

Cradle my heart in your rhythmic waves,

Sweep away the shadows,

with your tender touch,

Lift me beyond this ache,

Let me soar,

Enfolded in the harmony of your breath.