fledgling

The fresh sunshine of the coast Awakening the damp sand Tenderly kissed by the morning waves The golden drop, slowly trickling upward The ocean air, heavy with salt The sticky breeze in tropic heat The delightful spray of new life The cry of the seagulls awakens the fisherman His coarse hands The fruit of his early toil Sculpted over the ocean of time And sets foot in the damp soil Lovingly pecked by the froth of the waters The vermilion sun in the tan sky His arms, brawn and built The son of the ocean in slaving Let the chains immerse themselves And hush the throb of a tiny sprouting heart To let four more hum in peace The calm waters, washing ashore poetry Some, of joy and mirth Some, of pain and tears Carrying dissolved voices of hope and life And yet an ocean of smothered cries.    

The still air, ever so calm The blossoms, hushing their graceful waltz The rustling leaves, as if to quietly watch For my pursed lips to spill the words The raging torrents, now a calm ripple To quench the fire devouring the remains Of my broken shards of my hope The roasting sun a mere glow To melt my tears contained in my eyes And let the sounds of despair escape my lips To tear through the frozen cacophony Swaying on the creaking bough Lost in the ocean of thought Will there ever be a hand To grab me out of these murky waters? Engulfing me in the dark clutches of confusion Strangling my last gasp of air Oh, the ocean of my own tears The seething rays in the heat of fury Melting the sticky embrace of my own tears And let the strangling stalks of weed wilt The swirling gushes of wind Hushed to an innocent breeze Tenderly stroking my hair with love To soothe the raging storm in my chest Fanning my wet cheeks The cool waters kissing my toes Washing the tw

Throughout almost two years of Fledgling, you might have read about several people and places. This is my story. Since childhood, I have always been an ambitious child who yearned and burned with the passion to create an identity for myself. I was a sensitive child too, often bullied for my complexion. Though academic life was always a breeze, my social life has always struggled for stability and it still does. My conversations are rarely with people and my peers have always been in the form of a paper and pen. I needed something. My only comfort was music and literature. I delved deep into the literary universe and soon found myself intoxicated with the solace it gave me. Immersing myself in books and listening to other stories did help me take the weight off my mind, but these emotions, filled with inferiority, often overwhelmed my tiny brain and pushed them out in tears. It threatened to dangerously gnaw away at my confidence, which I could not afford to do at any cost.