It’s a cold moist afternoon. The girl is on her way to the forest. The languid sky is turning heavy and grey, just like her heart. She lost someone she can never really replace. She’s young enough to cry but not old enough to not sing. The weather is now partially sombre. The path is lonely full of sludge and potholes. She kept walking with slow tears, her mind is stuck in loopholes. She is damaged. With her every clumsy step, she is reaching near to the dense forest. She regrets how she failed miserably being so honest. She is a finely grown adult but her heart, it’s a child. Innocent. Walking by the treacherous path, she can’t resist herself from singing the odes of heart.
I want the rain to fall
I want the rain to fall
Its the death, dreadful
But why not to sing a song.
Rain O rain come again
Come into the forest
I am plucking white flowers
For the grave of the sorest.
{ She did this in her last days. For the one, she loved beyond dimensions. With the time the forest adopts her. Heals her. The forest, for her, feels like a soul. The one soul she lost. She can feel the presence of love and the rain starts to uplift her. }
I m dancing like a child
And the raindrops are flirting
Our old old blemishes
doesn’t feel any hurting.
I m lost in the woods
Haze is all around
With a deep breath & fragrance
I sat on the ground.
Then I count my mistakes
They don’t hurt anymore
The moist eyes smile hard
Feels like evening seashore.
Slow wind heals me
Deep lake feels me
Green forest
To be honest
Astonishingly
Cuddles me.
I walk over the mud
Jumping over brooklets
Stary night is blessing yet
The stormy day just embrace.
Oh lord, good lord
Did I deserve a life?
Oh lord, my lord!
Please bless me with life.
The girl was neurotic. She was mentally disturbed as her parents were authentic portrayals of inhumanity. Her innocent mind catches the violence at very early stages of life. She was still a good heart, unlike her parents. She regretted her immediate violent behaviour. She regretted her short temper. She always preferred isolation. For the good of her lovingly twin sister. And one day she thrusts her into the river, straight from the old bridge. That was the only day in her life her mind convinced her to live an ordinary life like other children. But she failed. She damaged herself and families of many. She was defenestrated out of the village. Her family rejected her, who indeed taught her the violence. She breathed the last days of her life with her pure innocence. There the ode of sorest begins.
She never really reaches the forest. It’s all her wild imagination, it’s all her song which comforts her reality, momentarily. She just keeps walking miles over miles following the colossal green mountain, having spectacular curves and haze. With an utter request to the god, she dies in the disturbance.
