Swasti Shree

Kritya is happy to introduce a young Poet, Swati Shree. her poetry is the voice of youth, and mature enough.

Like a girl

Like a girl learns to hold his pinky finger

tightly,

The world has taught her not to let go of his arm- not even slightly.

Like a girl swears to never be like her mother,

Yet now all grown up, she yearns to be her.

Like a girl who used to love applying henna on her hands,

Can’t seem to view it no other than cuffing bands.

Like a girl who grows with patience and stillness,

Today she will let herself loose-

Loose like her hair hung down in ringlets even if it makes a mess.

Like a girl who was afraid to live,

Look at her thriving- more than just alive.

Like a girl she was taught to hold his pinky finger-

but that was not long enough to linger.

The world which taught her to hold his arm,

She lets go without any worry or harm.

Like a girl who lived as a princess,

Has her own battles to fight now— vowed to never bow in front of the spineless.

I wish we could have lives.

I wish we could have lives-

One or two,

A life where we have it all figured out,

Another where we have no clue.

Life which we have, are we supposed to regret

All the days I’ve spent-

Which one do I select?

The one where I try to carve my own niche,

Or the one where love feels too cliché.

Those days when I wonder-

What if I don’t want to look back,

What if I didn’t stand by my name, didn’t collect enough fame

and would be stuck in a loop full of games,

Because then I would know-

I would know where I lack,

All these thoughts which have become too muffled- hard enough for me to track.

Learning about myself means going through that five stages of grief,

Yet I am unable to write words that seep—

Tearing the inked pages, deleting the messages, keeping it very brief.

I wish we had lives-

One is not enough- so two

Because then I wouldn’t regret,

Wouldn’t regret losing or having no clue.

To feel is to breathe.

To feel is to breathe,

As precious as every heartbeat.

When it withers away,
you will not get another chance,

not even if you beg at heaven’s feet.

Ruin-

Ruin it all you want.

Let it, the remedy as you call it,

flow through your bloodstream.

And in the end,

only your loved ones will scream.

Seen it all,

hands shaken,

trust taken,

A miserable life to live,

wait until you’re actually broken.

You die every time,

yet you come back.

You like knocking the burning doors of hell,

filled with greed, desires, lust, and crime.

You say it’s easy to come back,

to quit anytime you decide,

oblivious for you is your destiny-

a painful karmic ride.

Like the poison from the snake,

they bite, we suck it out.

You turn out to be kind,

you let the toxin inside you,

be your hideabout.

Maybe you’ll see it one day

clearer than the night you started,

You think your vice is how you feel,

But that is not the reason
why your soul departed.

Swasti Shree

To define yourself is to limit yourself. I believe in this motto and maybe because of this, I still long for my identity. I am , a student of Delhi University. I am passionate towards creation and well, I like to write. Usually, I keep my writings to myself, but my mother encourages me to share it to the world. I don’t necessarily write to appeal or impress- rather, I find my writings raw, just to express. Through my poems and writings, I want to reach those who are exactly like me. All of them who are still yearning for something they don’t quite understand.

Lastly, I just wanted to say that,

“All that cannot be said- I want to say it.”

swastish3@gmail.com