I WRITE MY HEART OUT

Life is a river with twists unknown, An endless journey, where seeds are sown. We trust the hands we thought would stay, But find they drift in their own way. They’re kind, they’re helpful, their hearts are pure, Yet our paths diverge, of that I’m sure. For no one’s nature can we reshape, Only guide them gently, give them escape. And those who love us, why would we change? To mold their essence feels so strange. If correction wounds, leaves scars inside, Why does the hurt feel so amplified? Of all the souls that crossed my path, I found no malice, no hidden wrath. Generous, caring, their spirits bright, Yet paying that price still feels so right. A cup kept full to always give, But the weight of it all, I still relive. The cost of importance, of being sincere, Has left its mark, so sharp, so clear. Perhaps the pain is worth the gain, To learn what’s wrong, to bear the strain. If no one seeks to harm my heart, Why does it tear my soul apart? We’re all so differen...

  If forever is a lie, Why are promises to be made? If things are destined, Why do we meet people? If bonds are to break, Why do we often love? If beauty will fade, Why be beautiful? If fragrances are to dull, Why does the aroma stay? If memories are to go, Why do we take pictures? If it can’t be yours, Why is forever beautiful? (It was raining.) ~Tk 

When someone opens their heart to you, they're entrusting you with a part of their soul. In that moment, they're giving you everything. Their trust, their fears, their story. If you find yourself unable to ease their burden or change their world, then let the greatest kindness you offer be silence. Let the story they shared die within you, a quiet remembrance that lives on even if you don't walk together. The deepest respect you can show is to carry their words to your final breath, honoring the bond you shared, even if time and distance may draw you apart. For some stories are not ours to tell. They are sacred, bound in the unspoken promise of trust. -TK

 Between Life and Loss:  My Cousin’s Battle with Schizophrenia His body blanched, swollen, his son recognized him by the shoes he wore. “Yes, this is my father”. They had been looking for him for some time. It was a new neighbourhood , unfamiliar territory. The wife wanted a better life, so they moved to this place from the village. He must have slipped and drowned. It couldn’t have been suicide. My cousin Sheikh Wali was more than just a corpse. One night he quizzed us-about a flower that was also a vegetable. We failed and he at the end answered, cauliflower. He came to live with us and helped us with our studies when it was exam time. He taught me how to write, drawing letters and numbers in black ink for me to fill them with the color of my choice. He had the most crystal-clear blue eyes, wide and big. His beard was reddish in tone. Tall, thin, handsome man with good hygiene, clean clothes, I still remember his scent. On my birthday in Class 5 he brought two cakes for my f...

 She sipped on hope, but the taste turned bitter, Left the cup half-full, her heart even emptier. Summer breeze made her leave her work to have a cup of coffee to compensate for all the cold cups. She had a few sips and left the mug when having a coffee was all her pleasure. The reason for looking outside the window is to calm the thunder inside the room.

 We come into this world all alone, And leave it behind, with no one to own. Families are meant to guide and care, To lift us up and always be there. But when support fades and love feels weak, The bonds we had start to feel bleak. Without a comforting touch or kind word, Family’s true meaning becomes unheard. Sitting each day with fake family smiles, At a table where warmth is just in style, It’s better to share a simple cup of coffee With a stranger who’s real, but not who were once a best friend  For in those moments of genuine exchange, You find more truth than in pretenses arranged. True connection beats the hollow cheer, When real bonds are what you truly hold dear.