The Rose

By Prathishta Diwakar

I stumbled onto a bench

Blinded by the rush of tears

The night was as dark as my heart

How I willed this pain to disappear.

So lost in this fog was I

That I didn't see her straight away

Only when I felt her soft touch

I jerked and looked her way.

I took in her appearance

While furiously wiping my face dry

Twinkling eyes framed by silver hair

She stopped me, saying it's okay to cry.

Placing a wrinkled hand on mine

She said I know it must be hard

Whatever you're facing now

Tearing your heart with a glass shard.

But this dark fog shall clear

If you have a little hope

For He won't leave His child

To forever sit and mope.

She opened my hand gently

Placed a small silver rose

Told me hold onto this

When you face life's lows.

As I felt a peace washing over me

She walked away, leaning on her cane

I never found out who she was,

Where she went, from where she came.

To this day I clutch onto the rose

Whenever I feel like I'm drowning

And I remember her, her warm eyes

And I find the strength to keep breathing.

By Prathishta Diwakar