The Fight

Poetry Jul 13, 2021

One beautiful Sunday morning, watching the birds in the sky,
She wonders if she could ever take off and soar so high.
The clouds invite her into its vapoury wide arms,
Showing off its majestic heavenlike charms.

“There will be time, there will be time,
When your limits, you will define.
You never know what you could find,”
Crooned these words in her mind.

Exalting the sunset turning the sky to a pretty pink,
The music she listens to, makes her heart beat to it in sync.
An inquisitive squirrel, exploring an Oak tree,
Snaps her back to her reality.

Anchored, like a grown elephant is to its mast,
She had enfettered her aspirations to her past.
Like the Lonesome George, she stood deserted,
Forlorn, companionless and left stranded.

Tethered, back home, as if loosely to her stick, sat she,
Wanting nothing but to be set free.
To spread her wings wide and fly far away,
Like the swallowtails on a lovely spring day.

There will be time, there will be time,
When your limits, you will define.
Find in yourself, the will to discover,
And watch how magnificently you flower.

The red sky does favours to the sailors on ships,
And scholars alert the masses of a looming Eclipse.
Whereas, before fiascos there comes no warning,
Just as in the ocean, a ship, lies foundering.

While the red of the rainbow flaunts its bright colours,
The violet scatters itself and hides behind covers.
Ambition and royalty, it symbolizes,
But its own abilities, it trivializes.

Would she too, sell herself to such lies,
And not reach out to the waiting skies?
Would she give in to failure,
Instead of letting it perfect her?

There will be time, there will be time,
When your limits, you will define.
Darkness shall never be our suppressor,
To failures, we should never surrender.

The magma in her volcano has not gushed forth yet,
To mankind her eruption could be a lethal threat.
But as decades pass by, the lava cools down,
Giving birth to flowers to be admired by the town.

Even the whales that die of suffocation,
Sink slowly, lonely, to the floor of the ocean.
But this whale fall houses a whole ecosystem,
And the crustaceans call it their kingdom.

Happiness we can harbour, the farther the dejection,
While defeat brings, on oneself, wistful destruction.
Just as they say “The higher the clouds, the finer the weather,
But the cumulous ones bring rain and thunder.”

There will be time, there will be time,
When your limits, you will define.
Let’s not feel like our lives have completely ended,
But take time and explore the places unfrequented.

-Elsita Jolly Mathew

Word War 1

This post was submitted as an entry for Word War I, a writing competition organised by DJ Lit! Follow us on Instagram to stay tuned for more such events : https://www.instagram.com/dj.litsoc/?hl=en

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