A Future Untold

By Ujita Brahma

They say I was born to bring light,

But no one asked if I liked the sun,

If its heat didn’t melt me first—

If I wanted to burn for someone.

I was handed a path in gold trim,

Worn by many, praised by all,

Told, “Make them proud,” like I was a promise,

Not a person who could fall.

My dreams were not wild, not reckless, not rude—

Just different. Just mine.

A spool of thread and palette of hope,

A kitchen warm with brine.

But instead, I walk halls lined with books

That whisper nothing to my soul,

While my hands, built for color and cloth,

Are stitched tight in control.

Why is love measured in sacrifice?

Why must my joy pay the toll?

Why must I dance in someone else’s shoes

Just to keep a family whole?

They have their marriage, they have their jobs,

Their roots run deep, well-fed—

Yet suddenly I must bloom for them,

While I wither in their stead.

I don’t want to be “basic,” boxed,

A label that fits but chokes.

I want to be strange, and soft, and strong—

A poem that life rewrote.

So let me live—not loud, but true,

In stitches, sauces, shades—

Let me be proud in my own way,

In colors the world degrades.

You call it rebellion.

I call it breath.

The right to live before my death.

By Ujita Brahma