Poetry Series: Healing

Healing is part 3 of a 4-part collection I wrote called Bittersweet. I will post part 4 tomorrow evening. Comment, like and share. Read part 1 and 2

Even a spark of fire is still a fire.

Through a glimmer of light, I see through the dark.

Because I’m breathing means there is still hope.


All along my pride had gotten the better of me.

I found shame in not being ok.

The stigma of my mental health gnawed at me.

What will others think of me?


I was raised to pray when I needed solace.

I was so far gone, I didn’t know my way back.

I had hardened my heart.


One day I just started crying.

Something within me had broken.

I broke down on my knees

Praying that divine intervention comes my way.


I found solace in my friends and family.

I allowed myself to be vulnerable.

For so long my default had been to be stoic.

On the inside I was laboured by a heavy heart.


I went through life the right way, yet things didn’t go my way.

I studied hard, graduated, but I still had no prospects.

I was not adjusting well to life out of education.


The institution was the only home I knew.

The interviews I had it was always the same tune.

Not enough experience, they said.


 I volunteered, trained some more, so I could join the rat race.

A year went by, no permanent opportunities arose.

I felt like a failure and I started to believe it.


There was no hope for me.

I had become a burden to my family.

When relatives asked about me, they were told lies.

He is doing some training, they said.


I was feeling sorry for myself.

Thinking the world would rescue me from my pity party.

Even those close to me could only do so much.

I had to dig myself out of rock bottom.


Another year went by and I lived just to see the sun set.

The world had lost meaning to me.

Life had me cornered.


Everything I tried was to no avail.

The effort I put in was all in vain.

Everywhere I turned was a dead end.


The 9 – 5 life seemed not to want me.

I conjured the strength to find my purpose in life.

I found solace in writing again.

I had neglected it long back.


I found a friend in pen and paper.
Scribbling my feelings whenever they weighed me down.
I unburdened myself through writing. 


I had to let go of any ill feelings I harboured.
To accept things don’t always go my way.
Sometimes life is unfair like that.


With each passing day I unburdened myself through writing.

What I couldn’t say out loud I wrote down.

I found my voice in writing.


My words evoked strong reactions.

Suddenly I no longer felt alone.

Joy trickled into my heart again.


I owe it to myself to look to the future.
I have control over what is yet to happen.
What has happened, I can only learn from.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *