~ DIASPORA ~
Confined in a cage, the poet sees the death of poetry,
from the hubland it loses in acceptance.
There goes tedious thoughts sneaking on peace
and brusqueness of fear blending with the evening skies.
The poet knows, it is time to listen to the silent whisper of her own voice,
against the hurling wind and the woeful sound that only she can hear.
Heart in diaspora, the poet joined the allies of pens
where poetry is the only escape-route.
Her desire to unveil her tangled mind
strained her to shrugs the loutish pride and march to face the nemeses;
like in a strenuous movie scene.
Within the bounds of her existence,
she inhaled through the glass window and bowed to obey:
Be brave. Write.
“I knew that the audience for poetry was relatively small but that there were many readers out there who had been driven away from poetry and were ready to find a way back.” ~ Billy Collins