If I Could Share the Rainbow

From a distance, a rainbow showers
a fragile arc of hope after long silence.
Colors whisper of beginnings,
while shadows murmur of endings,
and the quiet fear of drifting into nowhere.

Still, the heart refuses to pause,

for light so rare cannot be ignored.
In this moment, a rainbow is felt in life,
and the wish is simple:
may it linger a little longer; or maybe forever.

If only I could share the rainbow,
I would stay beside it,
lose myself in its colors,
and find you there as well.

Beneath the Peaks, A young mind speaks

As a young mind growing in the land of the Himalayas,

I wish to keep alive the strength of my thoughts, the bloom of my will.

To stumble, to rise; to make mistakes and learn...

But around me, the elders stand like immovable hills... Guides, yes!

Yet often unwilling to admit when they too have lost their way.

They drive us mad with commands,

Yet they carry neither the weight of their faults, 

nor the burden of their outdated truths.

Oh, how loudly they preach mindfulness,

While dismissing the very discipline in their own actions.

Still, I’m expected to bow,

To cover their flaws with my silence,

While my small slips are judged as rebellion.

Despite the applause when I speak from my heart,

Where is the shift?

Where is the change they claim to value?

Oh, wise heads with silvered hair,

When will you see that youth is not a threat...

But a force? Not a fault line in your legacy,

But a bridge toward a better future? 

FEMPARCHY: Where Respect Flows Both Ways

Dear Patriarchy,
I am just a young woman trying to carve out a space: 

a place where I can simply breathe.
I am not here to offend you, 

nor am I trying to rebel against your mindset.
I’m just a young woman, showing up with the hope 
A hope that we can belong to the same universe... 
A universe shaped by a common mindset of equality and respect.

Did I expect more from you? No… maybe I didn’t.
I am not here to compete with you.
I only ask for a little corner in your vast yard 
a space where my ideas are heard, 

and where respect flows both ways.
I don’t seek pity. I don’t seek favor.
All I ask is a fair share of values and virtue; a place at the table.

Dear Patriarchy, I’m not here to burn down your walls.
I’m just a young woman longing for FEMPARCHY :
A world that’s half of you, and half of me.
Together. For all. For the future.

Incomplete Looks Good on Me

You said you'd never walk out; but you did,

like it was the easiest vow to break.
No storm, no fight, just silence...
with the door that learned to close too well.

Today the air lifted my hair, like you used to,
but it doesn’t lie about staying.
I whisper, "Just the wind"
and pretend I don't miss your lies.

How funny! I dreamed in forever,
you listened in temporary.
You stared at me like art,
admired, then left abandoned.

And they say I look incomplete without you.
Cute but Sarcastic...
As if heartbreak isn’t the best thing
you accidentally gave me.

IDEOLOGY of FOOL's

Oh, great wise fool with banners so bold,

Chanting old dogmas you barely uphold.
Your ideology; so rigid, so grand
Like a house of cards built on shifting sand.

Truth bends and breaks to fit in your mold,
Nuance? Complexity? Stories untold.
Shouting in echoes, so certain, so bright,
Yet reason retreats from the heat of your fight.

March on, dear thinker, so sure, so right,
Blinded by dogma, but bathed in its light.
The world spins on, unmoved by your creed
While wisdom dies where fools take the lead.

The Art of Falling Quietly

They told me mountains heal; that if I sit still enough,

breathe deep enough, I'll feel whole again.

But all I feel is the earth cracking under me,

the dry, brittle grass clawing at my skin,

and the wind screaming prayers

I no longer believe in.

I used to carry hope; tightly, like a fistful of glass
sharp, glittering, cutting me every time I tried to hold on.  

They called it love. I called it survival.
But who survives like this?
Who drags their heart to the edge of the world
just to watch it bleed out quietly
where no one is looking?

They never broke me; They didn’t have to.
They just took: some of my softness,
more of my belief in tomorrow,
Yes of course, my stupid desperate need to be seen.
They drained me slow, until I smiled through my own vanishing,
until I laughed at my own undoing.
God, I was so easy to forget.

And now, here I am.
Not peaceful. Not reborn.
Just another ruin on the mountainside,

watching the sun set on a life
I don’t even want back. What’s left to want?
When you’ve given until there’s nothing,
when love is just a beautiful way... to be left empty.

Call it healing if you want. Call it growth.
But I know the truth. I was never climbing;
I was falling all along... or call it; fallen long ago.

Footsteps or Footnotes???

The elders lead, heads held proud,
feet on steps well-worn, well plouged.
The young ones trail, heads bent low,
following where they “ought” to go.

A woman behind, a man ahead,
the script unchanged, the lines still read.
Her steps are light, her space is small,
or so they thought. She’ll change it all.

Yet not alone, hands reach, stay,
lifting, guiding, lighting way.
Wisdom lent, not caged nor tied,
strength in voices, walked beside.

So here we march, down for a new page,
wrapped in colors, freed from age.
The flags still dance, the sun still burns,
and now—we rise. It is our turn.