Soft Shadows

Walking a blue path, silent

No one in sight

No left or right

Just yellow light

Birds whisper softly in air

Who is she? Where does she dare?

Flowers blooming,

Her face - all gloomy 

Her presence falls, a deep shadow

Ruining the serene path she swallowed

The trees that cast their dappled shade,

Recoil their limbs; all kindness swayed.

They don’t want their shade to touch her grim face

Don’t want their grace to grow faint. 

She walks in all silence

No birds chirping by the voilets. 

No breaths, 

No whispers,

Just her lies and her blisters. 

Her presence damps 

All those she glanced at.

Her face, a cloud beneath the sun,

Like every joy has come undone

But one who wounds her more than this

More than the tree who called her an abyss

More than the floral dismiss 

Is the voice that pricks her

It whispers softly, sharp as glass:

"You're nothing. This won’t pass."

"You're a failure, a dead spark."

"Unseen, unheard, always crying in the dark."

Birds weren’t whispering about her sight

They were chiming where to dine tonight 

The tree didn’t remove their shade

The winds simply blew their limbs away.

She walks, longing for a home.

A yellow light that softly shone

Blistered feet dragged through mud

Carrying silence instead of blood

Who left her so undone? 

She doesn’t seek a castle that’s grand

Or a charming land

She seeks walls that are broken like hers

Walls that call her all warm and pure

A filthy couch would suffice

She just wants to rest tonight

A dusty room, that softly sighs

Lullabies for her muffled cries. 

Who is this girl who walks alone, always just a step behind me? 

For me, that girl is my insecurity. She isn’t loud; she doesn’t shout. She is a quiet girl who walks by me all the time. She doesn’t laugh at me for making mistakes; she glances sadly in despair. Her glances ridicule my existence; she uses it well for her quiet essence.

Without saying much, her eyes forever utter, “You’ll never be good enough."

She is mine, but she betrays me more than any of my enemies. She is engaged in every moment of my tiny smile, looking at me and glancing at me as if she is pitying me for enjoying them. I deserved them, but her glances swept them away. I feel her presence every time I shrink, rewrite a message, look at myself in the mirror or question the worth of my voice. She doesn't say much, just quiet stares and quiet smiles, all for my favour.

With each mistake, she consoles me as I was meant to make them. She tells me, "See, I told you; you’ll never be good enough. It’s fine." Her swift consolidations cut deeper than her sad glances. But at least she is there for me. She cares for me. Her words can't prove her care. She lingers in my empty room, remembers my favourite songs; at least her love is unconditional. She doesn't fake her words.

It's just her one glance, and my achievements become mere luck. Her one timid smile, and all the compliments feel empty now. She looks at me with sympathy for my contemptuous behaviour.  But to me, she appears to be my only loved one. She doesn’t say much. She is mostly silent. But her presence speaks volumes.

Even though she smiles at my failure, she feels my own. She feels homely and sound. I know even if the world is against me, she’ll be there consoling my mistakes because I was bound to make them. 

I keep her hidden; what if someone takes her? She is my closest companion. I can’t risk the exposure. I can’t risk losing the one who nurtures me so much. She feels safe and comforting, but her presence sometimes hurts me a bit. Her presence reminds me of all my wrongdoings. Her presence doesn’t dim my spark; it extinguishes my candle. She extinguishes the light I tried so hard to start. I am torn between the comfort she provides and the pain she brings. 

I shout at her. I tell her how I am trying; not every mistake is a failure. I am learning from every stumble, but her silence is louder and more thunderous than my faint shouts. She is always holding my hand not tightly, just enough to make me hesitate. Just enough grip to make me hold her hand again. Her fragile hands feel so familiar, the cold sensation I have known since day one. As I look into her eyes, I see a reflection of my own doubts and fears staring back at me.

But somewhere along the way, she grew more distant. Suddenly, I felt her presence fade. 

I still rewrite my text, still second-guess my every word, and still am the same self-deprecating girl, but when I look beside me, she isn’t hovering as such. She is undoubtedly there, but she is softer and less angular.

When did her presence sway?

Maybe it started the moment I laughed a little too hard when someone complimented me, and for once, I let myself believe they meant it.
Maybe it began when I looked around and saw people trying, failing, and growing, and something quietly clicked: if they can do it, maybe I can too.

Maybe it was when I wore a new shirt and, for once, just looked in the mirror and said, “Hey, I like this.” No overthinking, no picking myself apart, just a quiet moment of liking who I saw.

She was still there. Same glances. Same faint whispers.
But I had started tuning into other voices; softer, kinder ones.
Most importantly, I started listening to my own song.

I think she noticed it. She noticed how her presence doesn’t bother me much. She surely finds it unfamiliar; she doesn't know what to do, so she is keeping her distance. She still whispers every now and then how I am bound to fail, how I am never going to be good enough, but now her words don’t pierce me much. My words started to matter more than hers. 

I don’t hate her; I will never try to erase her. She is the strongest part of me, a little tender, small and scared girl. She is the voice of doubt that pushes me to strive for more, to prove her wrong. But I will keep singing my song, louder and stronger.

I still hold you dear, as you nurtured me with all your care, like a memory I no longer fear.

-Vidushi Anand