Who Am I?

 



Each morning I rise with hope in my chest,

Dreams in my eyes, unrest in my rest.
The fears of the world come creeping by,
Still I spread my arms and ask the sky:
Who am I?

I work, I strive, I give my all,
But feel so small when shadows fall.
Tears that no one ever sees,
Lonely moments, silent pleas.
Yet still I stand, arms stretched high,
And softly whisper:
Who am I?

God says, “I’m near,”
People say, “We care.”
But none ever paused to truly stare
Into the storm that lives inside —
They never walked the tears I hide.
And still I stand, arms open wide,
With aching heart,
Who am I? I cried.

People tell me, “Just let it out,”
“Speak your truth, don’t live in doubt.”
But as I start, the looks arrive —
The quiet judgments sharp as knives.
I swallow pain, I mute the scream,
And speak in silence, chasing a dream.
But still I ask with tear-stained eye:
Who am I?

My wounds run deep, my thoughts grow loud,
My spirit soft, yet never proud.
Each door I reach, it shuts with force,
Like fate has led me off my course.
Yet in that dark, where I rely
On just my breath —
Who am I?

At crossroads lost, I search, I seek,
No guiding voice, no hand to speak.
No signs, no stars to light my way,
Just silent nights and haunted day.
But still I stand beneath the sky,
With arms wide spread,
Who am I?

The heart of a human mind, screaming to be heard. — a soul's song from Resilient Reflections

SSP

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Return That Was Never Meant to Be—Yet Always Will Be

Image
  A few evenings ago, under a quiet Dubai sky—glowing not with stars but with the haze of distant city lights—I sat with a school friend. We watched an Air India flight pass silently overhead. A moment later, I asked him: “It's been 25 years since we came here chasing dreams. Why is it we still talk about going back? Not to settle scores with life, but to return home?” At first, he laughed, thinking I was joking. But soon, the silence returned. He knew what I meant. We didn’t just leave a country. We left behind a childhood. Mango-laden summers. Cricket on empty fields. Rain that smelled like wet earth and innocence. We left behind our roots. “I’ve built a life,” he said. “Good career. My kids are doing well. But going back? It’s chaos. No civic sense. The roads are still bad. Politics are worse. All they want is our money.” I looked at him and quietly asked: “And what have we done to change it?” He didn’t have an answer. Most of us don’t. The Dream That Lives in Every N...
Read more

“When We Were Still Free”

Image
  “Ahmed… Fathima…” The stretched voice of a mother drifted in from somewhere behind me, cutting gently through the sound of waves and my silent thoughts. I looked up from where I sat on the beach, toes buried in warm sand, heart somewhere else entirely. In front of me, four children were playing—a delightful chaos of laughter, sand fights, and tiny feet racing the waves. Two of the kids—both dusky, bright-eyed—looked up and ran toward the voice without resistance. A few seconds passed before another voice, softer but certain, called out: “Sai…” And the third child, who had been digging deep into the shore with his tiny hands, paused, stood up, and ran back to his family. Now, only one child remained—a small, fair-skinned boy with messy blonde curls, likely Russian. He was still giggling to himself, stacking sand like it was treasure, unfazed by the absence of the others. And as I watched them, something inside me paused—really paused. These children didn’t know each other’s...
Read more

When the Gods Go Silent: The Walk of a Man Through Dark Times

Image
  The Silence That Speaks There are moments in life when everything feels shrouded in silence. We search for guidance, but often, it feels as though the heavens have closed their doors. The gods seem distant, and in their silence, we may feel abandoned. Yet is it possible that this very silence is the greatest form of support we can receive? Could it be in the stillness that we are truly being led toward transformation, toward a deeper understanding of ourselves? When silence falls upon us, it is not a void but a sacred space—one where we are invited to shed our ego, our desires, and the attachments that bind us. In the quiet, we can hear what words alone cannot convey. In the absence of sound, the divine speaks. The Path Through Darkness: A Call to Detach In the darkest of times, it often seems that we are walking alone. The path is unclear, and yet, it is precisely in these moments of silence that we are called to trust the process.  "In the darkest times, I show you ...
Read more