She was only ten

He had come to get her;

it was time for a vacation -

a break from school

in the cold winter.

She brought him dinner

from the school mess –

gesture of a host

to a guest-from-home.

“It’s delicious, dad,” she said

and tears flowed down his cheeks,

saddened that his daughter

had been eating such terrible food.

“Thank you,” he said

and she smiled,

although

perplexed to see those tears.

Her first winter vacation…

and no mother at home

to greet her,

hug her,

kiss her,

feed her.

No special food.

Her father - he did his best

and soon,

mom faded into distant memory.

She was only ten then,

but a grown up girl,

already!

She was the-woman-of-the-house!

Her very first winter vacation -

it passed

and nothing was missed.

Not anymore.

Her Light

Into her light, they entered  -
the windows of her soul 
open for them; and

into darkness, they threw her, 
as if they now owned that light of hers.

Acceptable it was to her 
that  they couldn’t create their own light;

but, disappointingly, they stooped so low 
as to take away her light -

depriving her of her own creation, 
that had taken years of pain and sweat.

If only she had the courage 
to close her soul’s windows 
to them forever…

The truth was 
she would always keep them open, 
out of compassion…

And maybe some day, 
that light will shine through those windows -

enough for her and them -
their lives being lived harmoniously;

her life back to a whole, 
with invigorated fervour of dreaming,

hoping, 
loving, 
wanting, 
wishing… 
like everybody else -

they theirs; 
she, her own… 
and everything falling into place.