Dope Mess: A Poem

She is a fire blazing in frosty air,

Breathing hope in her whispers, as she shivers.

As the darkness engulfs all other entities,

Though walled, she navigates life with warmth & an irrefutable lustre.

She discerns where there’s smoke, there is fire &

even a cool flame, without fuel, ends the way it began.

Her fear of burning out grows as time passes,

But she endures,

Like a flame, who illustrates love in her fiery sacrifice.

She is the moon, glowing, in a midsummer night’s gloom.

Isolated in the midst of myriad stars shining.

Often, she prays that her presence isn’t in vain

Because her labour lacks appreciation and affinity.

She doesn’t have extravagant expectations,

Never needed to be a shooting star, while bystanders wish from afar.

All she ever wants is the liberty to let go,

A heartfelt embrace, and the feeling of coming home.

To those bystanders, she is a heroine,

A protector, a pillar of strength, a loving mother,

A wife, woman of faith, stubborn yet selfless.

But under the cape of a hero,

She is merely a woman.

With flesh and bones, blood in her veins,

She is blemished but beautiful,

Tempered but tender,

Determined and doubtful,

Fretful but fierce.

Whether fate or fault,

She is the beauty in the mess,

A canvas spilt with chaotic colours,

Or a land with varied buds blooming.

Some days she dreams of drifting away,

Lacking the strength to be the fire, the moon and the heroine,

But even then, she is still relentlessly pursuing;

Pursuing love in all that's lost, pursuing truth in all those traumas,

Pursuing her peace and purpose –

Calculatedly, Confidently & Comfortably –

She is a Dope Mess that Couldn’t Care Less.