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The one who keeps going back to the broken edges.

You have run your finger on the sharpness till your skin got so thick and numb that it doesn’t bleed anymore. Do you often wonder too, if poetry bleeds like your heart?

You have been repeatedly walking down the cold alleys in search of nourishing warmth.

Pause now.

Blow out some air into the window pane and make a drawing of your fantasies on the mist. Wonder not, who would discover them. Instead, soak in the joy of drawing them out. Would not it be lovely to watch how sunlight would make them melt into the thin air?

Open up that beautiful journal you have carefully tucked away. Unfreeze your self from this prolonged hang fire. You have been longing for balladry that artfully conceals the chaos in your heart. Ah! those flowing verses, gentle and simpler. Stop thinking about them now!

Simply, string the words as they come, one after another. Forget, if they make sense, or, fulfill some purpose. Who said, you don’t have the freedom to scribble as you please? Jot them down, plainly, as they appear.

Allow nonsense to flow from your fingertips and let them dance into gibberish, if they want.

Take a deep breath in. Stick your tongue out, release the sigh you have hidden for ages in your heart cavern. Let it out. Loud.

If a tune comes up, sing. One, then another and then, another.

Do you see the tiny spark of curiousity that made your heart flutter, calling out your name from the yonder years? Greet it with a smile and ponder. Widen your eyes in wonder about the seeming incoherence of life and then ruminate some more about how all of this might be a great design; perfectly imperfect.

Tap gently on to your pulse. Run your fingers over it and hold for a while. Breathe with it.

Have you ever marvelled at how exquisitely life throbs within you? Did you muse enough if this ebb and flow is actually love?
Did you ever find love unexpectedly? Simply, exquisitely, as if it drew you to itself when you needed it the most?

May be, they are right who say, Love is God. And, they also say, Love is who you are.
May be, all that is true and if not, does it matter much?

Instead, why don’t you meditate on courage? It has kept you soft for years. No matter how painful it got, you never closed your heart.

Dear you, who finds value in joy, innocence, simplicity, and kindness, forgive yourself for the days when you were grieving, lost, complicated and were hard on yourself, and the other.

Smile your sweetest smile now, for once. When you go back to the broken sharp edge, carry the curve along. Whisper thank you to the wound. Find gratefulness in your heart, because it played it’s part to make you into who you are. Smile wider. See, how, despite every hurdle, you grew, one cell at a time. You became better, not bitter.

Sending you a goodbye that feels like soft spring breeze caressing your face.

Keep beaming with pleasure.

Your unique resonance matters.

With love,
Your Mirror

Found in Transit

18 thoughts on “Found in Transit

  • It’s evidently your own story… it’s also comforting to note that you that you have discovered the panacea to the maladies that have been tormenting you for so many years. Good for a start to unshackle your self. I’ll be eagerly looking forward to some thing more substantial in theme and content .
    My prayers are always with you.

  • P.S. Read your article once more… this time more thoroughly and with more time… You certainly have the golden touch to express your thoughts transcending to sublime levels of artful writing… feel like taking a leaf out of your script and live life afresh… time is precious… keep it up Deboshmita… let your soulful words inspire many more into living truly meaningful existence in this crude materialistic world…. keep up the great work…let your pen light up the horizon..,, “Teach me half the gladness, That thy brain must know…….. The world should listen then- As I am listening now “

  • Allowing ” non sense to flow ” is what makes you “you “..

    ..through the generations , more” modern” or “developed ” our world is ..further we are deviating from these simple , innocent , human – aspects of life ….! What is sense and what is non- sense …. only heart knows …it’s on us whether do we have time to pause and love !

  • thank you for penning this Debasmita.your writing is so sensitive, so reassuring. just going back each time to the ‘broken edges’.the resilience i experience as i read your writings , in these times, keeps me going. thank you . keep up the good work. keep writing. my uncle in new york , eighty plus asked me ; who is that on fb with you..i knew u must have shared something powerful. that quote…love is tree and lovers its shade…i think he liked very much. he too writes , author academician par excellence!

    1. How beautiful. I am lost for words. Thank you so much for this sharing. Means a lot and very reassuring too. Hugs
      Please convey my regards to your uncle.

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