The Uncertainty Of Becoming

By Akriti

And if i cut open my heart 

bleed all over these pages 

would that settle the eternal turmoil 

in this walnut shaped organ

inside my skull

infuriating as it is

to not know who i am

or what my purpose might be

cruel yet tender—

the uncertainty of becoming 

without ever knowing 

stepping in the dark

through the maze of life 

unmapped unsure 

with this constant ache 

that never gets better 

or maybe it does for a while 

when the sunlight dances on water 

or wind ruffles my hair 

when little squirrels climb the trees 

or the autumn leaves fall

when the waves crash on the shore 

or he holds my hand

maybe for a little while 

it does not matter

if i’ll ever be enough 

do enough 

maybe 

just maybe

the purpose of life

is not defined in who i become

or what i do

but in how deeply i love 

despite the heartache and grief 

how much kindness i pour 

into the cups of those 

less fortunate than me 

and even it i don’t become 

who i thought i’d be

even if i don’t live all the lives 

i’ve wanted to live

even if all my childhood dreams 

remain unfulfilled 

i still hope 

my kindness knows no bounds 

and my love is infinite. 

By Akriti