I don't feel anything.
No fear. No concern.
No urge to be
better or worse.

"Are you taking medicines? "
"Can I send you something to eat?"
"Here, have some fruit. "
"Eat more protein. "
"Don't forget to take vapour
and gargle. "
"Let me send you a book
to keep you company. "
"Use my subscription,
this channel has awesome documentaries. "
"Are you feeling better today?"
"Call me if you wish to talk"
"I am here with you, every step of the way. "
"Rest well, don't be in a hurry to heal. "
"Resolve deeper now to quit smoking. "
"Don't forget the vitamins."
"Focus fully on building immunity"
"I'll tell you one hidden gift -
your body will be full of new stories"

Surprised at the
unconditional love
and care that's pouring in,
I see an enquiry brewing.
Who am I
when I have got nothing
to give?

"Gold, pure gold",
whispers my beloved elder.
Her wise eyes
piercing through me.

I look at my hands.
Flesh and blood -
my skin bearing marks of
31 winters of negligence.

I don't see why
I should care for myself.
I don't feel any love for me.

"You are an idiot",
laughs a friend.
"Sorry, I am not discounting
your feelings,
but I am discounting
your feelings".

" You don't know
how much you give
but it's okay, sometimes
childhood trauma makes us
believe certain things",
reassures a man who loves me.

"Don't allow depression
to pull you down.
Your body is a gift
from source,
you know that,
don't you?",
texts my best friend -
taken aback
at my declarations,
yet, ready to wait
for me to feel why
my life is worthy.

I tap on my frozen heart
and pray.
Dear Lord, give me
the vision to see
who I am,
the courage to be
the one I should be.
There is no vigour
left in me for life.
I am surrounded with love,
I can see but I cannot feel it.
Soften my heart.
Let me trade this numbness
for ecstasy.

Soulchemist. Scribe In Service to the Divine Feminine. Consciously Evolving. Healing. Embodying Shakti. Sharing Stories, Poems, Wisdom and Dreams.