The Shy Soul of Chui Mui

By Napuleon Sonowal

She lived in a garden where dreams flourish.

She as Chui Mui —

With Lajja-laced hands,

She folds her green and gentle prayers,

Hiding from the world’s restless gaze.

She whispers stories

only she and her silence understand.

A shield of thorns guards her soul —

But don’t be mistaken, she’s only protective.

Each touch makes her fold away —

not in fear,

but in quiet strength, 

a sacred retreat.

Like the earth cradling its seeds

before they sprout,

she protects her heart,

to someday bloom sweet.

And when her small, pinkish blossom appears,

let it be —

She loves to bloom, not to be plucked.

Softness in her is not weakness, but grace —

a tender dance of soul and skin.

In every fold, a poet’s hope held tight —

that the sun will coax her leaves 

to unfold again. 

By Napuleon Sonowal