Revived

She belongs to the tangerine sunsets and the iridescent autumn skies; to the roaring songs of the seas and the trickling summer rain

She soaks in the moonbeams and in the dappled light of foliage green, fragile as a dainty doll of china porcelain

She is the sparkle and the diamond dazzle; the serein and the mizzle

She reminisces and daydreams of the yesteryears–bronze, aureate laminated in a silver sheen

She likes deep talks and, in the woods–long walks

Bonfire laughter, a hushed voice; hibernating from the cacophony and urban noise

She’s a Goddess, a wild child, a pixie, a sprite, sometimes a witch on a broom

She creates, she howls, oh! how she grieves; a little bit of sunshine is all she needs…

She loves the chants and hymns of Celtic mystic

She’s a blazing fire, she’s soothing water, a placid lake and the turbulent ocean too

She forgives, she believes in magic

She gets lost in all the little things

She fears, she trembles, she’s scarred, she’s scared!

She survives, she settles, she proves her mettle

She soars, she roars, she’s adventurous, she’s gracious, she sacrifices much more.

It was a dark place in the cocoon she grew, but she persisted and broke free.

She got her wings, she’s now ready to fly

She battled, she won; she doesn’t want to be patted on the back and called resilient for taking bullets and surviving.

She wants a soft place to fall and to rest her head in a daisy meadow

Under cloudless cyan skies, with a fragrant breeze lulling her to childlike sleep.

Sangeetha Kamath