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Home by Anamika Singh

I wish to build a home
Of my own
Where I do not have to search
Traces of happiness
By digging up the graves of the past.
Where I do not have to hide myself
Curled up in a dark cave abandoned and lost
I want a relationship with my home to last.
Last forever
Till I take my last breath
Inside my home,
On my deathbed.

I do love my wandering bohemian life
But I wish to set my roots
In the ground which feels my own
Whose soil soaks up my negativity
Where plants ooze positivity
I want to breathe the air
Filled with love and affection
A place whose reflection
Is my own
I want to settle down at a place
on my own,
a place that I could call home.

Being a Woman by Anamika Singh

I have had a bitter-sweet relationship with myself and my identity of being a woman.

When I was a kid I was called a tomboy because I had a bob cut
and wore “boys” clothes,
let me tell you blue is the color I adore the most.
It reminds me of the sea
the clear blue sky
the bluish Monday’s I had
but the strength they all leave me with
is what makes my neurons go high.

When I grew a little older I was called out, teased, made fun of for the hair which grows beautifully on my face
Above the lips,
On my chin,
Like the makhmali ghaas
which grows in the garden.
I hated myself for it
Waited to grow old
So that I could go to the parlor
and get rid of them all.
And guess what? I did.

When I grew into a teenager,
I got uncomfortable in my own skin
The looks of people
The gaze of fellow girls
When they saw the hair on my legs and arms
In utter disgust.
I won’t deny it
It made my head spin
And spin
And spin,
I waited to go to college
So that I can get rid of them all
And guess what? I did.

When I grew into an adult
I started getting conscious of my weight,
The tease of the people
Made me want to just vanish.
So I ate less
Sometimes stayed hungry
So that I can get rid of the curves I had
Which made me look,
Umm, what did the term they used, yeah, UGLY!
And guess what?
I got rid of them all, but only for quite some time.

Till I met people who went through the same,
Heard the stories of my coven who shared my pain.
I let go of my fears
of other’s gaze
I hugged my imperfections
Whom I lost and abandoned
in the dark cave.
Sisterhood made me believe in myself
the poet in me made me
strongly voice my opinions.
A woman with her head held high with all that she got.
I am a feminist in making
and I choose to learn and unlearn,
the privileges I have had
The notions of this universe
To build my own world.

A woman, that I have been
A woman that I am
And a woman that I will become
I love every part of me even if
I still have a bittersweet relationship with myself
and my identity of being a woman.

Daisies by Anamika Singh

If I die tonight
Do not shed tears
Just open the window
And let the fireflies carry my soul
to the forest
Where I will turn into a wind
Blowing above the river
Taking its droplets
Over the clouds
So when you miss me
I will come back to you
As rain
Fall on your palms
And tell you I love you too.
And fill your garden
Blooming With
beautiful daisies
And see you smile
Through them,
for the last time.

<img class="wp-block-coblocks-author__avatar-img" src="https://evepoetry.files.wordpress.com/2021/08/dac5b-img_20210419_202641_171.jpg&quot; alt="<strong>Anamika Singh
Anamika Singh

Anamika Singh is an author of “Spring in the Autumn” and has been a part of many anthologies. As a travel photographer, she loves to create a visual narration through photos and words.

A feminist in making her work reflects the reality of today’s world, conjured emotions poured on paper as poetry and short stories and shattering patriarchy through her writings. She has been featured in Jaipur Literature Festival, London 2020, Colorado Edition 2020 and India 2021 under “Jaipur Writers Shorts” Category.

Anamika has performed as a poet in the Conference “Disruptions and Eruptions” organized by GWSS, The State University of Pennsylvania. She believes that Panic is a luxury she cannot afford so she writes her heart out.