By Dr. Devica Bisht
In the silent hours, when the world drifts asleep,
I wander the corridors where old shadows creep.
Through walls of memory, thin as lace,
Each whispering echo leaves a trace.
I remember the days when dreams were glass,
Held too tightly, afraid they’d pass.
I wore my armor, strong yet thin,
Against the world, against what’s within.
Life’s hands, invisible, firm yet kind,
Etch scars in places the eye can’t find.
Each wound a line in a hidden tale,
Of fragile strength where we dare to fail.
I’ve crossed through fires that left me bare,
Ashes clinging like unanswered prayer.
But somewhere beneath that quiet gray,
A spark remained, refusing to sway.
We are mosaics, broken and whole,
Shards of silence and songs of soul.
Every fracture, a glimmering seam,
Each piece a testament to dreams.
Along this road, I’ve met weary hearts,
Bearing worlds in their smallest parts.
In shared burdens, in quiet release,
We found in each other a piece of peace.
For though we’re bent, we seldom break,
A quiet courage, a choice we make.
In a glance, a word, a hand outstretched,
Life finds meaning where love is etched.
Through storms that ravage, winds that moan,
We learn we are never truly alone.
The smallest breath, a fleeting glance,
A reminder to give life another chance.
So I gather the shards once cast away,
Each memory a brushstroke of yesterday.
In every scar, a lesson lies,
A map of pain where wisdom hides.
I stand now whole, both shadow and light,
The fire of dawn, the calm of night.
With every scar and every tear,
A mosaic formed, beautifully clear.
And when I look to the endless sky,
With winds of change that pass me by,
I see in each fragment, bruised but bright,
A constellation of my own light.
By Dr. Devica Bisht
beautiful.....