DEAR DREAMER

Your mind is a haven of dreams;
Little snippets of miracles – Boastful of their magnificence, vain in their abundance.
Does life like your plan, dear dreamer ?
For the years are a bit too few,
the struggles a bit too many.

Your eyes alight with the sparkles of a distant future;
A reflection of the light that doesn’t exist.
Is the world backing you up, dear dreamer?
The fire in your heart will suffice – for now
But this is an open arena and a storm is coming.

Scars of the battlefield will be your jewels of victory;
A new perspective in your eyes – Every breath seems like the last, every gain the first.
Are you a fighter, dear dreamer?
For I see in you the will for a never-ending war,
I see a light that refuses to flicker away.

You will win, for it’s a victory that you fought.
If you turned the future bright with your eyes closed, oh, the things you will do with eyes wide open!
Is fate your friend, dear dreamer?
For it admires rebels and I hear you are their warrior.
Take your sword of passion, move forward and conquer them all.

Conquer them all, dear dreamer.
For hope is your ally – and it wants you to win.

– Roselina Roby

GOODBYE, MY LOVE. HELLO, MY FRIEND.

Let us weave the special bond of camaraderie
With the beautiful threads of our memories.
A preordained future;  you in my life, me in yours?
A tittle at the corner of your heart, tiny yet unchanging.
For I’ll let you be my favourite star,
Smiling in remembrance, I’ll adore you from afar.
You’ll be the one twinkling from that constant spot of yours,
When heart feels somber, I’ll know where to look.
You matter now, ‘cause you mattered once.
You’ll matter always, ‘cause you mattered first.
But above all, you matter because…
You shined so bright, illuminated my heart, taught me how to love.
And, oh, how spectacularly my world has changed since!
So I’ll let you be my favourite chapter,
One I love to revisit and revise.
Overwhelming my spirit with nostalgia, without the hue of melancholy anymore
Never feel powerless, the entire sky was created for you.
I’ll be there, always, whether you feel lonely or heavy-hearted.
Like a friend, a wall. Even a warrior princess, really.
For now you are my favourite star.
Smiling in remembrance, oh how I adore you from afar.

THE GOOD WIFE

I was groomed well from the very beginning. The society had taught me how to be good as a woman even before I truly had turned into one. The secret, of course, was to be a good wife. One that I had become the moment I entered my new home, the house of my husband.

I  knew he was the man of the house and listened to everything he said, gave him everything he wanted. He was the king, period. When he was sick and lying on the hospital bed, I was there, taking care of him and never leaving his side. When he was infuriated over some event at the office, I would listen patiently as he rambled on and on for hours. I made his favourite cuisines, even if I had to wake up super-early to do so. I, indeed, was the classic example of a good wife.

My daughter might have felt a tad bit neglected over the years, but that was a necessary sacrifice on my part. After all, she was a girl, perhaps it was a good thing she got to learn adjustment and compromise from the every beginning, it would ensure a peaceful future for her. Oh, wonderful. A good wife and a good mother, I was brilliant. Handling the house as well as a job could never be easy for any woman, priorities had to be set for my own sanity. I was pretty clear as to how my days needed to be. I woke up early and prepared breakfast and lunch for myself and my husband. For my daughter, I boiled some milk and also prepared two eggs if time permitted. I tried to ensure that my daughter got a good breakfast, afterall, the only time she had a meal after that was during dinner. Her own mistake, to be frank. It’s not my fault that my husband and daughter have such contradictory tastes when it comes to food and ofcourse, expecting me to make a separate dish for her would simply be too much. It is pretty simple, she should eat her father’s desired dish that I have prepared, or make food on her own because I simply do not have the time. The petulant brat still hasn’t learnt though. She would starve for the day but never take a step into the kitchen, such a disgrace, who on earth would marry her? Over the years, it seems, she has gotten used to having only one good meal per day. Well, good for her. My husband understands that this is not my fault, so of course I’m doing nothing wrong. Oh but ofcourse, occasionally when she starts crying and acting like a cranky angry woman because of hunger, I make all her favourite dishes.I am a good mother after all. I make it a point, though, to not make them again any time soon after that. I don’t want her to get habituated with me making her special dishes, what if she starts expecting it every time? We can’t have that, can we?

My schedule is pretty hectic, when I come home after a tiresome day at work I take a 1 hour nap and then immediately get onto the cleaning task. My husband is rather messy, to be frank, and oh well, so am I. However, ever since my daughter shifted to her college dorm I’ve found a cheat move. I take all of the abandoned clothes, files and every rubbish from the living room and our bedroom and deposit them in her room. It is rather convenient, she isn’t here now, is she? Anyway, she deserves it. Even when she was home, she never helped me clean the house, that spoilt brat. I felt obligated to give her a thrashing everyday because of the same. She was such a horrible daughter, I tell you.

Now, 10 years later, I really wonder if she truly was that horrible. She had endeavoured to be a friend at times, I just never had the time. I wish I had though, what I would do now to get a glimpse of her. Not a glimpse of some photograph she uploaded on facebook but an actual live glimpse. She stopped visiting after her second year in college, even spent the vacations interning at some place or the other. Once she got placed she moved to a huge city situated at the other corner of the country. Never came back since. She sends us a nice hefty sum every month, also calls us once a week to know if everything is fine; a conversation too short for my liking. I wish things were back to normal, the normal that was 10 years back.

I wonder where I went wrong.

CATERPILLAR

The past seems like a magnificent utopia,
An alluring bubble, evanescing when touched.
The emotion that consumes me, I’m perplexed,
but since my heart is clenching, it must be sorrow.
Turn me back into a caterpillar, mother.
Being a butterfly seems just so wrong.
My wings don’t reflect my spirit,
And, for the flight, I don’t feel so strong.
Turn me back into a caterpillar, mother.
For I want those feelings back,
The buoyant anticipation of a wonderful future,
The excitement to fly, that now seems lost.
I spent a chunk of my eternity, pursuing treasures in the seven seas,
And now I’m missing the land.
I spent so long climbing, trying to reach the unattainable summit
And now it seems so utterly insignificant.
Give me a chance to figure out what went awry,
this is the future I desired, but suddenly don’t want.
Give me a chance to grow up again; a do-over.
I need to somehow weave the life in which I belong.
So turn me into a caterpillar, mother.
For being a butterfly seems just so wrong.
My wings don’t reflect my spirit
And, for the flight, I don’t feel so strong.