Pushpanjali kumari

Dad, when I was a kid, You told me ‘Beta, for you, even the sky is not the limit!’ I worked hard, trusted your words, gave half my life for the dreams, But Dad, at last, “What did I achieve?” I lay naked at my most sacred place, I suffered the scariest of all death, I died all in disgrace, I couldn't even hold the burden of my own face. Dad, Why didn't you tell me before that- “Love, you aren't safe in your own dream place!” Dad, you said that you are proud to call me a doctor?

Your death lingers, unfortunately, Whenever the nightingale sings Outside my window, And I am forced to contemplate How sounds must emanate from the bones Of fragile beings For them to be heard over The footsteps of death’s confidants In the endless commotion of their materiality. To be heard thus, Beyond the vacuum of the terrestrial, The quietude of the void must reside Within the cavity of bone shafts Where songs outride waveforms.