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Despair

It hurt badly – it came as soon as it went. Like the waves breaking on the shore, the ebb and flow continued to mess her mind. It slowly scattered her to pieces. Her body lost the war first. Her tears flowed as if they did not belong to her. Breaths came in quick succession. She was trapped. The pain unbearable, she wondered how her brain was still intact. Hands tied, legs tired and immovable, she awaited her fate…

The room of pain has no color. The sick yellow walls; pale and haunting, have tales of horror etched on them. If only they could speak, they would narrate volumes. No one is spared in here. Screams are common, followed by torture, torment, and despair. No respite. Figures in white come and go. The one’s in black wait outside, occasionally peeking in. They take mental notes as if ticking off names on their list.

There is not one such room but many. They wheel in and out people. Some leave with a smile that comes after hours of agony. Some leave but only physically. Mental and emotional deaths were common here.

At night when the creatures rested, search for peace seemed the only way out. But as the morning sun rose, hope seeped out at first light. There was no escaping. This was destiny. People in white stuck their hand in time after time, tearing away at her, drawing blood, pushing, scraping, and pressing. Pricked, cut, stitched, she was dismantled and put back together more than once. She was empty yet full.

Plagued with guilt and sadness, her faint heart beat erratically. Yet, the creature within her rested. It rested in peace when she suffered. As if afflicted with a rare disease, members in white watched on, touching her softly, whispering among them, offering a bleak future.

The machines beeped on as everyone left her and the room. ‘Would tomorrow be too late?’ she wondered. No one could answer this. The creature would leave on its own accord. This was a test she had to suffer. She had to bear on, her heart and mind betrayed her as they continued the battle.

With morning light, she felt awash with a new feeling of pain and horror unimaginable. She felt as if she would burst as they wheeled her out. She saw delight looks passed on by the ones in black. Frightened faces bid her goodbye. The creature had woken up and was on its way out.

*It is five months today filled with pain, regret, and despair. I think of her often - how big she would have grown by now and dream of her future which I am to never be a part of...
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(Image only for representation purpose. Copyright lies with the artist. Not Waving but Drowning Fine Art Print - Trudi Doyle)



He walked, bare feet, on a mass of crushed sea-shells Coarse sand clung onto him, he watched her Afar; sitting motionless on a wind-beaten rock As if waiting for knell
'Wosh-wosh' screamed the waves Gloriously furious, crashing on the moss-covered dock They came high, they came low Yet slow, the sea so magnificent they seemed insignificant He watched her, sitting motionless As if waiting for knell
Ominous clouds o'er head played hide-n-seek with the moon threatening to steal light till noon He prayed, she'd move and he'd take her away
somewhere warm, happy and safe
And then she turned to look at him,
Him eager, she like waif, smiled
his heart in blithe
Only to step deep into the waters
Now safe from the knell



(This is from a dream I had recently)