On this day i thank each and every women who saw injustice and spoke up,
Faced struggles and said, whatever be this ends with them.
Who realised that they don't need any kind of socially accepted stereotyped behaviours to be liked or valued,and lives authentically,
I thank them for their struggles,for their voices and finally for my freedom.-
She told me about the flowers that bloomed around the darkest of days that we walked through.
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The prayer leaves me,
Skirting towards the abyss
Taking the shape of a butterfly.
Joining a million others,
In proud spiral succession,
The iridiscent winged warriors
Fluttering up,
Reaching towards the moon,
Making darkness,
A spectacle too.
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Our eyes need light
To appreciate the moon;
And the moon,
In turn decorates the night;
And the night,
In turn hides the day.
And the day,
In turn illuminates
the mountains and rivers,
So who is here
To say they own it all,
When the rhythm is,
all that what matters?-
A dove flew past
the skies decorated for the evening,
Celebration isn't it?;
Of a moment
In this universe,
To be and to witness
We are all the same.-
Can we be,
Like the sand dunes that keep
Forming
And breaking;
That all it needs,
Is just a breeze,
That carries it off,
To lands magical?
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Why is it so hard for you,
To fight this war
Against your ego,
For me?
When I have done it,
And would do it,
A thousand times over,
For you?-
Let the world see
The oxymerons that we live by.
For I lost count
Of reasons that told us,
Perfect is what we ought to be.
Perfect in our belonging,
In our thoughts,
In our desires and longing.
The mess that we are,
Is a long journey towards us,
A more bearable version maybe,
But not perfect even then.
Let's just agree;
And finally celebrate the dichotomy
We aren't black,
Nor completely white,
We are just grey.
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