THE ANGRY WOMAN
She night walked through life
When the demons seized her soul
Ripping her peace of mind
Shaking her confidence
Bulldozing her faith.
Angrier she grew by the minute
Bitter day by day
Persona of her lively soul.
The milestones passed by
The seasons melted into each other.
Dusk and Dawn gave no respite
And her dark odyssey lingered on.
A doomed tunnel
Bereft of sanity.
A light shown for a short lived pang
She gasped for breath
Running towards freedom
From her steely cage
Engulfing mouthfuls of oxygen.
Gradually the mirror eased
The reflection in the mirror
A ghost no more
With broken ribs.
Happier she grew
Content she became
Bathed in glorious raptures
A thundering blessing
She captured the halo in her heart
Sealed with a promise of gaiety
She was angry no more.
Through silken dreams
Interlaced with thriving memories
I feel you
Through my closed eyes.
The maze of our celestial dance refuses to die
Despite being frayed by vagaries of time.
I can almost recall your touch
Feel the pulsating warmth
Still drown under your bold gaze
As I hug this song of remembrance.
Your memory is both a jubilation
And a throbbing pain
A permanent entrant
In the hidden crevices of my heart.
When swept furiously by tides of remembrance
I tremble as the pain lashes me
Flowing unbidden as warm saline tears.
How I wish the tears were sweet
And the memory sans pain.
How I wish I could recreate the magic
Of a breathless encounter.
The cold unspoken silence
Does nothing to soothe my blistered heart
And yet I cherish this pain
For only this is my constant comrade
Of Words and shared embraces
And of a heart aglow with a brilliant sheen of hope
That one day this pain will twirl
Into an enduring reunion.
From unknown unexpected domains
You invaded my soul
With a fragrance so adored.
A fragrance that bespoke of sheer brilliance
Captivating my heart in its fold.
Just like the most precious of blooms
Live for a handful of days
I could inhale your fragrance
And soak in your love
For a brief odyssey.
But behold, like the carefully preserved
Deep red roses in the folds of my diary
Your fragrance still lingers in my mileu
A daring reminder of our rendezvous.
Will the roses bloom again?
Will the dewdrops kiss its tender petals?
Will the exotic fragrance wreak its magic once again?
I can sense you are around
Invisible , but subtle in your presence
And like the dark clouds
Waiting to burst into a torrent
I await the moment
When your fragrance intoxicates me once again.
Aabha Vatsa Midha is a post-graduate in pure sciences based in Faridabad. She is an ex-teacher, a blogger, a poet and an author. She grew up in Allahabad and Zambia imbibing diverse cultures. A self confessed optimist, she is a believer in the power of the written word. ‘She has two poetry books to her credit, titled Harmony and Home Alone. Two additional poetry books titled MIRACLE and DESIRE are due to published in mid August.She writes in contemporary free style and has a wide innerscape of thoughts. You will find she composes poem in widely ranging topics from nature, love, longing or women’s rights.She is a quintessential student of life , taking each day as a gift to be unwrapped with countless possibilities.She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org