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Some people tend to forget that we’re not in the same boat.  
Some people tend to forget that we’re not wearing the same coat.  
You wave to me, and I wave to you in return.  
That’s not all there is to it.

Do you know if I have enough room in my boat?  
Enough room to lay down for a sound sleep?  
Do you know if my coat will keep me warm?  
Will it stand up to the approaching storm?  
Sometimes I wonder why I’m encompassed by recalcitrant night.  
Sometimes I wonder why I have been denied perpetual light.

Have you ever been thrown into the shadows?  
Have you travelled for so long in withered meadows?  
Ask me, and I’ll recount my ordeal.  
Have you ever overheard your father telling your mother something about you,  
And you somehow believe it to be true?  
He tells your mother in the still of the night that he doesn’t understand you.  
He tells her that he can’t fathom your kind of luck.  
Your mother is speechless,  
And the next day, she looks at you with worried eyes.  
You’re unhappy but not surprised.

Have you been disbelieved by your siblings?  
Have they helped you but then withdrawn?  
You call one, but she doesn’t answer.  
You call the other one; she picks up but tells you she’s too saddled to help you paddle.  
You begin to see yourself as a burden.  
You’re heartbroken, but your love for them helps you to unburden.

Has your father ever told you that he is dishevelled whenever he thinks about you?  
Has he ever said that he wonders why you’re different from your siblings?  
Has he ever expressed that he wonders why you're yet to find your path?  
He tells you that time is the master  
And that you must walk faster.  
What will you do when you find yourself on this warpath?  
How do you make your father understand that something is blooming within you, even when it’s yet to be seen?

Have you been troubled by the unknown and unseen?  
Have you been pursued by the tendrils of the night?  
Have you desired but yet to find?  
Have you felt that life is unkind? 

Some people don’t understand why you can’t afford what they call the least.  
They need to enter your world to comprehend how you fight hard to break free from the mould.  
They need to see how you have struggled to find gold by following the paths you’ve been told,  
This is me finding happiness in each day I’m privileged to see, yet still feeling discontent.



April 15, 2025.
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