If there's a place for what's been broken
take me there and I will show you
how to make a home out of it.

Oh, didn't you know what's beautiful
can be broken
and that which is lost can breathe again?

Didn't you know
we aren't here to just do
what's considered right?
For the only thing that matters
is what feels right in that corner of your heart
where there's nothing but light.

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When raised voices turn
homes into apartments.

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And half of her life she spent
trying to separate her father
from the person she hated
the most.
The toxicity of belongingness,
no one knew better than her.

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Bad habits, dirty shirt;
O' father, don't complain.
Leave my imperfections unseen
like you don't see my pains.
Don't despise my ways of living.
I made peace with the dirt
running in my veins.

You can't expect the branches
to thrive
putting the roots on fire.
Not scared to burn anymore.
Spit every bit of venom inside,
free your soul from regrets.
Words no longer leave cuts,
this skin is stalwart.

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You know there are kids
Kids who are born to poverty 
Irrespective of thatched roofs,mud walls 
Tiled floors and Concrete houses.

Kids who live in houses instead of homes.
Houses where every room is a territory 
And every territory has a war story.
Wars which these kids watch
hiding behind folded curtains
Or under blankets which are never warm enough for their cold feet.

Kids who are like battlegrounds,
Because battlegrounds can never choose a side,
Especially when you are not sure whether Dad's pancakes are better than Mom's brownies.

Kids who grow up to realize that 
Dad's pancakes and Mom's brownies are both bitter.

Kids who have the heart to love 
Despite of feeling unimportant all the time.
Because nobody ever cared
To sign them up for a summer camp
Or to teach them how to ride a bicycle.

Kids who never dream of a beautiful lover or a big house.
Because for them a happy home is too much to ask. 

And you know there are kids
Who pretty much never got to be kids. 

-

The storm came in to break the houses;
left silently after witnessing the broken homes.

-

And the storm ceased after
breaking the homes.

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... the day I left our broken home,
all I packed was cinders of love, trust and respect.
-Mandira

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Dear you,

(Sub: About broken homes and their unbroken echoes)

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"Broken homes" are not homes where people are divorced or seperated. The homes where love turns to hate, loneliness creeps in despite having a company, and it becomes hard to find a breathing space should be called "broken" homes.... It's time to reframe the terms, and normalise living a healthy and happy life, even if it means to break some relationships and hearts..

#s

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