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| Dayani's Balloon's today. |
By yours truly
My grief is clothed in pitch black.
Her hair unkempt and hasn't been washed for weeks.
Her face puffy from all the crying.
Her voice hoarse from all the screaming.
She has blood on her hands
She raises her palms up while whispering my daughter, my daughter.
She looks quite dirty, messy and weak.
But I can't turn my back on her.
For I know her.
I know who she is.
We've met twice.
She took on slightly different forms then, but I recognize her still.
I see her clearly from the corner of my eyes.
No amount of ignoring is going to make her disappear.
She follows me around in the shadows.
She cackles when I cry.
She mocks at me when I am calm.
She spits and rages when I bow my head in prayers.
She screams profanities when I beg for comfort and peace.
And she wouldn't stop whispering Dayani, Dayani.
But she doesn't always disagree with me.
We are completely on the same page when it comes to Fear.
She even feeds me more by whispering Ishan, Ishan.
We are very much together in Anger.
She would stand proudly next to me when I curse.
When I flagellate myself with Guilt, she knows I deserve it.
Her cries are my cries.She is the only one who understands me.
I can't turn my back on her.
You see I know her.
I know what she needs.
So today, I am going to open my arms wide and let her in.
I am going to let her come alive.
I will acknowledge her truth.
I will hold her hands and look into her eyes.
I am going to let her cup my face.
I will touch her cheeks tenderly and ask her to tell me everything.
Everything that ails her.
And I will embrace her.
I will listen to her, this time compassionately...
I will then draw her bath and comb her hair.
I will bundle her in soft fluffy towels.
I will clothe her in brightness and make sure she smells nice.
I will feed her warmth to soothe her soul.
All the while I will listen to all her stories...
I will let her stay with me.
We will share the same space.
We will hold hands, laugh and cry together.
For we are actually old friends.
I know soon she will feel better and she will leave me.
I know this time, just like before, she will take her branding iron and plunge it into my skin.
I know it will hurt but I am going to let her.
So she can bid me farewell in peace.
And so we can become one again.
For you see, she is actually me.
HAPPY 2 MONTHS OLD, DAYANI!
My grief is clothed in pitch black.
Her hair unkempt and hasn't been washed for weeks.
Her face puffy from all the crying.
Her voice hoarse from all the screaming.
She has blood on her hands
She raises her palms up while whispering my daughter, my daughter.
She looks quite dirty, messy and weak.
But I can't turn my back on her.
For I know her.
I know who she is.
We've met twice.
She took on slightly different forms then, but I recognize her still.
I see her clearly from the corner of my eyes.
No amount of ignoring is going to make her disappear.
She follows me around in the shadows.
She cackles when I cry.
She mocks at me when I am calm.
She spits and rages when I bow my head in prayers.
She screams profanities when I beg for comfort and peace.
And she wouldn't stop whispering Dayani, Dayani.
But she doesn't always disagree with me.
We are completely on the same page when it comes to Fear.
She even feeds me more by whispering Ishan, Ishan.
We are very much together in Anger.
She would stand proudly next to me when I curse.
When I flagellate myself with Guilt, she knows I deserve it.
Her cries are my cries.She is the only one who understands me.
I can't turn my back on her.
You see I know her.
I know what she needs.
So today, I am going to open my arms wide and let her in.
I am going to let her come alive.
I will acknowledge her truth.
I will hold her hands and look into her eyes.
I am going to let her cup my face.
I will touch her cheeks tenderly and ask her to tell me everything.
Everything that ails her.
And I will embrace her.
I will listen to her, this time compassionately...
I will then draw her bath and comb her hair.
I will bundle her in soft fluffy towels.
I will clothe her in brightness and make sure she smells nice.
I will feed her warmth to soothe her soul.
All the while I will listen to all her stories...
I will let her stay with me.
We will share the same space.
We will hold hands, laugh and cry together.
For we are actually old friends.
I know soon she will feel better and she will leave me.
I know this time, just like before, she will take her branding iron and plunge it into my skin.
I know it will hurt but I am going to let her.
So she can bid me farewell in peace.
And so we can become one again.
For you see, she is actually me.
HAPPY 2 MONTHS OLD, DAYANI!
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