© 2026 Neha Kaur. All rights reserved.
In the meeting place of pain and anger, Where differences collide, emotions linger. A sense of self-content amid the strife, clarity discovered in the midst of life.
Is there an answer to my seeking heart, or is destiny the one who plays its part? Who am I to declare my own defeat, in the tangled chaos where emotions meet?
In a state of fracture, he stands, his brokenness evident.
Solitude becomes a drug for certain souls, A variety that self-destructs its own purity, substituting it with a perilous exhilaration.
He ingests it, akin to a dark, internal abyss. As time advances, oblivious to his inner scars, He bleeds, absorbing pain into the unknown, navigating through existence in a mindless drift.
You are made up of all things rubble,
you are too good for this world
your pure soul awaken too young
like a bubble
you wait to pop
you wait you wait
you are too brave for this world
Shedding your old used skin, crawling,
sending your voice to the top
waiting for a sign, a reason, a purpose
you are too pure for these words
1996
Your words were a blur,
filled with a roar
your hands heavier than your heart,
I mistook your innocence for anger,
you gave me a reason to grow apart
your words they linger
and your fear still remains,
in my memories as your growing pains.
Dear Reader, Listen to the women nearby, truly hear to fathom their tales, Suspend your own biases, absorb their words, where hidden gold trails.
Observe her shedding layers, revealing vulnerability so raw, Into the arena, she pours, surrendering to her quilted peace's draw.
Your openness creates space for her to empty her laden vessel, carried through ages, now released, her story, a heartfelt trestle.
Treat those words as sacred, embrace her fears as your own, empower her spirit, a shared strength, seeds sown.
Pause to appreciate her struggle, hold her with gentle might, In this moment, offer your strength, be her solace, her respite.
Where are your missing pieces? The cut inside you boils with rage, The kind I've imagined and feared. There is a trend in your kind, I've seen this self-hate before. Your silence reflects your pain.
America, you've harmed your children, They feel no honor, they require no loyalty, Don't be fooled by their kind voices and charming demeanor. Humanity has left them, It's not their fault, they were cut open.
I've been infatuated with all aspects of you, From the moment I felt an unknown hand, To when I rightfully placed it for the first time. You captured my vulnerability, And at times, you came to my rescue.
I smile at the thought of the ones I taught, Feeling a sense of shame from those who guided me. I hope for a gulp of satisfaction from those who felt entitled, I'm fighting for the ones who inspire me, And crave security from the ones who already love me.
I am Ma. I am Her.