Awake in the middle of the night
she rubs her eyes incessantly
goes back to hide under the covers
sleep is often an escape route!
Bright Sun burns her eyes
often she runs indoor
the world's quite a playground
defeat her kin too often!
Searching the pages of life
hope to stumble upon an alphabet
resonates which with peace
often though well aware it do not exist!
Outside the window stands tall palms
often she sighs an alas, cries a moan
despair that no tree for enlightenment
grows in her own backyard!
The spaghetti lines on the hands
she often sees changing
rays of hope births 'may be'
a day she will find her 'Zen'!
The image used in this poem is clicked by me. The words are from one of my all time favorite books "The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibran. Here he speaks about Pain.