Find Me Here


(Part I of II)

You told me I was like a dense green forest,
even though there were some deciduous trees.
You said that the smell of the soil lifted your soul,
that you felt relaxed embracing the zestful air while
I let you leave your deep imprints on the soft soil.
But as the season changed from sunshine to rain,
the roughness of your love defoliated my leaves.
You started counting the trees that were still green,
finding none; you left the forest, in search of another.

-Kritika Vashist

What is she like?


She shines through the cracks on her skin
She stands tall despite of her broken bones.

The radiance of her smile in the face of
trouble and misery, phoney and deceiver.

What is she like? Asked the wide-eyed world.

She is like the mirror, reflecting vitality
of her high spirits even when broken.

– Kritika Vashist