Where Does That Come?

By Samiksha

 I searched for the place,

where I could breathe a little easier

where my skin would feel less sticky from shame and guilt

where I could let go of my inhibitions

where music swayed my heart, and not wiped my tears

where I finally found myself

Where would that place be?

perhaps the mountains, or the blue beaches?

maybe in the brown houses of hill stations?

or in a lavish penthouse of New York?

I searched and searched,

until my soul ran out of its fuel

I lay there, a failed traveller

spread tired, like the dry foliage

functional, yet dead

beautiful, yet dirty

collected, but to be burnt 

Until I asked the kid who came to me

she looked like me,

But younger, happier, her eyes bright with the dreams I once had

I asked her, "Where comes this destination, where I shall finally find myself?"

She said, “Is that even a place, if it's not you and your soul?"

"If not that, where does this place even come?".

By Samiksha