I have asked God for thousands of wishes,
None of them were you,
God is adamant too-
She says I’ll only grant the ones
that have no trace of you.

School is beautiful, school is great
School provides us with an outlet , taps into our talent
School is where we learn new things and make friends
Friendships which some of us will carry well into adulthood

Were it not for school, where would we learn
And how would we know what we are good at
What we are not good at, what we  like, dislike
How would we learn tolerance and understanding

Tolerance and understanding  make us better human beings
Were it not for school, would we learn to read and write
Had they not gone to school, Dickens, Tolkien, and Twain
Would never have written the classics they did

School also teaches us the importance of numbers
Successful and rich people know their numbers
Money likes those who know their numbers
That's why the majority of people remain poor

School teaches us so many different things, so many
Some things help us in life, after school, others never to use
But knowledge is power, and its good to know
That we can stride out into the world with full confidence

I ducked their axe
But not the slap
The belt strap
And again and again
The razorblade
To my inner thigh
Of little maps
Flesh wounds
Like roses
I built hot memories
Warm enclosures.
Now my body
Is safe
Though not from their faith
And again and again
I am still caged
But now with longer spells
Of sunshine awake.

“To be Powerless is to possess the mightiest state of being - For in that emptiness , lies the possibility of becoming anything”

A woman dragged to court by her hair,
on her red tide —
torn and insulted — hey you,
look at her, and wipe your tears.

Was it blood or silence that spilled over her destiny,
chained her soul to the weight,
left to pain all alone?

Her five souls stayed mute —
for whose sake?

Whose verdict was her fate?
Whose vengeance was her life?
Who takes the blame for her pain?
Whose ego made her scars?

Men chose.
Men fought.
Men gambled.

But —
who was stripped?
Who got hurt?
Who bore the injustice?

She — Draupadi —
her tears, her strength, her wisdom —
shook the whole world like a storm.

Her rage, her wounds, her curse —
set fire to Kurukshetra.

She was the fire never meant to be unlit .
She was the mind that housed the might.
She got struck by fate,
but strengthened by faith.

Her face — as beautiful as the ocean,
her eyes — shining like pearls,
her hair — like the waves;
with unfathomable strength.
Echoing her power across generations,
praising her alluring soul —
isn't this the time to unleash the Draupadi in you?

What power you yield
in the voice of one—
to say to the world
“something must be done.”

What power you have
in the hands of two,
to do what you said
someone else should do.

From scattered
grains of sand,
dunes arise.

And from a single seed,
forests grow.

Neurons fire,
blind to the
symphonies they sing.

Droplets form rivers
with no single drop
Aware.

And your touch
ripples silence
into storm