If Thou Would See Her

By Aarna Sandilya

She seeketh not revenge,

but only recognition—

for burdens she bore unwillingly,

for truths she accepted

though her heart rebelled,

swallowing fires

until and only her ashes remained.

She dwelleth not in sorrow nor in joy,

but became emptiness herself.

They claimed to love her,

yet their actions carved deeper scars.

Thus heaven she questioned,

lifting weary eyes unto the sky,

asking, Why?

When she tried to explain,

they named her the fault.

And so she is written wrong

in every story told—

aye, even in her own.

A quiet crash awaiteth;

she is nigh to breaking,

to falling into dust.

O, soothe her,

wipe away her tears,

yet press not upon her,

for she is wearied of proving her worth.

Hold her hand,

look into her eyes—

you shall see the suffering,

and she shall weep into thine arms

the tears of years unspoken.

Long hath she stood as a warrior,

yet none inquired if she still lived.

All she needeth is a hand,

a tender gaze,

a soul that seeth her as she is.

And after all,

marred though her heart may be,

she shall still love thee—

if only thou grant her

the respect she hath been denied.

By Aarna Sandilya