Phoenix

“Her heart’s turned to stone;
Could at least shed a tear!”
That’s what everybody said
Some with sympathy,
Others with sarcasm and
Most with insensitive indifference.

No one knew though
That her eyes
Weren’t always barren.
Back then they’d brim over
Even in little joys.
One fated day he left.
Why and where? Unknown.
No talk, no letter nor a goodbye.
He just left.

Comprehension beyond any attempts
And no semblance of any reprieve.
Patience, perseverance, trust, hope
All collapsed brick by brick, burdened under
Pity, blames, sarcasms, comments
And the hollow noisy rumour mill.
Once the dam was breached by the tears
They just flowed and flowed away
Leaving behind nothing but a desert.
Indeed, she’s stone-cold on the outside
But within her, rage cataracts of emotions
And questions.

     “Thoughtlessly, it is he who left.
     Did his heart ever hold him back?
     Ruthless he, merciless he, emotionless he,
     Then how am I the stone-hearted one?
     He forsook that love, forgot those times,
     Those memories, the laughter et al,
     Why am I the one who’s stone hearted?
     I simply loved, seeking nothing in return.
     Then why should I endure the smears?”

     “My eyes shall not always remain barren.
     But not a single tear, I swear
     Will be shed in waste, especially for him.
     The stone which the world’s turned me into-
     I’ll hammer, chisel and carve out of it a new me.
     No longer would I be reflected in societal mirrors,
     But in the mirror of my own making;
     Only I'll bear witness to,
     The resurrection of the new phoenix me.”