Under The Cold Shower

By Shrushti Gaikwad

Under the cold shower, I stand upright. 

Under the cold water, I melt part by part. 

I feel…free. 

I drift through memories, 

I swift through my dreams. 

All of them, fragments of my past, 

Mistakes, choices, it all comes to me. 

It all comes to me and starts to sting, 

Why has the cold shower started burning me? 

Under the cold, cold shower, I don’t freeze. 

Under the cold, cold water, 

I am not shredded with loneliness. 

Under the cold gaze of my shower, 

I am, once again, free. 

I have always been given freedom, 

Never seeked it out before. 

I have always been a bird, flying. 

Never stood grounded before. 

I turn my shower from warm to cold, 

Wait for the water to change from lava to ice, 

The cold, like a windy day, 

with the Sun shining through big white clouds, 

The cold, like i’ve been starved, 

But I came home to mom’s cooking today. 

Under the cold shower, 

I am in the veil between reality and my dreams that provoke me. Under the cold shower, 

I am on the fence between being awake and being asleep. 

Under the cold, cold water, 

I am, once again, free.

By Shrushti Gaikwad