Footsteps on Water
- Hashtag Kalakar
- Dec 1, 2025
- 2 min read
By Aria Raina
gaping eyes, watchful yet adrift,
chipping the last of my nails, plucking lips till they’re marred.
for every blink i wish it would put me to sleep —
i blink once, then again, and again.
i fool myself, braiding illusions of time,
but it’s only a path forward from the whispers and bellows.
conversations and the judgments my mind casts upon them
flicker in my skull,
making a home, then moving on.
never had i felt the blood press against vessel walls,
my heart quickening with the minute,
then slackening, ebbing slower and slower,
as exhaustion takes a stronger hold.
gnawing at my spent remains,
famished for the taste of ease.
oh well — every piece of me a test.
perhaps i’ll find shelter, an outsider in my own town,
as i unearth every shard of this universe
unclaimed by anyone.
i clench my teeth in the quiet of the dark —
what fragment of me denies its own solace,
touching wounds for the sting?
perhaps the light would bestow me rest.
it stumbles instead and i vow to never meet its gaze again;
for i am a creature of vulnerability
long deprived and preyed upon.
so i untwine from the wires of my mind,
pronounce this self free — for i’d never felt so alive,
which was ironic, given my curse of exile.
patience tapers, and some days i loathe this vessel i inhabit;
the more i try to fade, the more i’m reminded i exist—
the fan spins, a low roar until my ears ring,
or measured breaths,
like footsteps on water, yet still tracing their path through me.
so i wish for a lull in my restless machinery,
perpetually quavering, never fully at ease;
perhaps i’m stitched differently.
there is a phantom crawling along my skin —
shadowing each step i dare to take.
By Aria Raina

loved it
The way this poetry has been written is truly phenomenal