Healing Takes Time !

Healing
Healing takes time
And our heart continues to bleed
Deep red rivers through our vines
It does take time
Weeks, months and years
Tears still fall and fall
Human heart is fragile
More brittle than glass
When it’s hurt and when it cries
Centuries of time shivers in pain
What do you think of human heart ?
Iron, stone, diamond or gold ?
Do you think it’s icy cold ?
It’s an active volcano
Erupting with pain and emotions untold


Human heart the most precious thing
So precious that even God wants it
And deeply desires 
It’s the home where God wants to dwell
Yet  our hearts so miserable and broken
Every corner every deep
Filled wth chaos, cries and shrieks
Brutally killed, withered and lifeless
So deeply wounded, so badly butchered
There is hardly any hope
There is hardly any life left in our poor little heart
Yeah healing takes time
Perhaps decades, perhaps centuries
Perhaps lifetime, perhaps eternity.


Human heart the most precious thing
You ever get to  possess
Never play with it ,never put it on fire
Never test it, never experiment it
Never disrespect, never mistreat it
Never throw away nor kick it
Never hurt, never smother, never squeeze or wring it
Never break it’s bones, never pluck its wings ruthlessly


It’s not a toy , not a thing to experiment
It’s the most precious thing designed by God
He looks our naked heart
And He hears our every cry
He sees our heart
He sees every tear drop falling from it
He collects those tears
He holds our heart in His palm
He cries when a human heart dies
He cries when our heart  cries 
He is the one who touches and  heals it.

My Vulnerability and Brokenness is My Divine Gift !

Somewhere in the vicinity of vulnerability and in the shed of brokenness I find my true self. In the aching of my tiny heart I feel the pain of life with such depth and sensitivity that the tears which fall ,they also hug my soul. Peace is not the absence of pain but the ability to embrace the warmth of our tears as our sweet comfort and faithful comrade ! Stability is the ability to embrace all the uncertainty, pain, hurts, fears and triggers with a most gentle touch and even in the exposure of all the gloom, you bloom amidst them with all the sweet fragrance and beautiful smile !


When I was a kid and when I was quite junior, my vulnerability always scared me, always made me cry and it always felt like a curse. I could never know how to ever live with such a sensitive and brittle soul . I couldn’t know how to carry myself and walk in this tough world. I always cried feeling so cursed because of my hypersensitive soul and heart. I still cry because of this often. I still suffer because of this. I feel deeply and truly each pain, each little joy, each little hurt, each little miracle, each little sadness, every detail which life throws on me in my each step. I feel everything with my heart and soul, I feel everything with my closed eyes . And when I cry I cry with all my pain, sadness, helplessness and miserable feeling. When I smile I smile from my heart and a pure spirit.

Well, it will be bad to complain about things, life and all the sad things. It’s true that the amount of adversities and tragedies I went through are massive and heavy, but I can’t undo them by complaining and crying. But I can embrace them all as most precious and costly gems and I can carry them gracefully as my ornaments . I can use them as unique colours which life gifted me to be a master artist. I am still figuring out how I can string all these scattered  gems from the deep cave sorrow, pain and adversities of life. By running away from my hurt, wounds and tears I can’t truly stand on my ground and can’t truly be the real me.


  I am learning to embrace my vulnerability and brokenness as my unique gift gifted by the divine. Because it allows me to feel deeply with each nerve of my heart  as a perpetual part of me and it keeps me from being hard and tough, it keeps me forever grounded to my true roots, the roots of emotions and feelings. Because this is what I am, a soul which lives, breathes and feels so deeply, a soul which cries most tender tears, a heart that forever beats with the sweetest and deepest sensitivity. And this is all I am . I can’t live without feeling. I can’t ignore the the depth and height of emotions and all the range of our struggles. I see from my heart, I sense from my heart and I am sensitive soul who lives in her heart.

Love is still a vague dream !

Touch my soul
Touch my life
With tangible love
Touch the untouched places
valleys and corners
Of my bare soul

Touch my loneliness
Touch my aching heart
Touch my ever flowing tears
Touch my wounds
With tender love

Love is still an alien thing
In my frozen world
Love has not reached
Love has not touched my life
Love has not embraced me
Love is still an intangible thing
Love is still just a vague dream

©Glorry Shubhashree

Only Dreams ..

Only dreams were the language
Of those eyes once ..now only the tears
This journey of dreams to ashes
Hopes to tears, and faith  to fear is
Indescribably painful.
May be that stream of tears has dried up visibly
But the emptiness left behind on its trail
In those hopeless, dry eyes
And this death of tears
Has made me instead a living corpse
A silent death is my life everyday .
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©Glorry Shubhashree

If Tears Had Some Language

“If tears had some language
And silence had a voice
They would narrate the best of stories
And the most ethereal poetry.”

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©Glorry Shubhashree 🍁

Two Wandering Warrior Souls

So many books we have read
So many seasons we have seen
So many stories we know
So many tales we have heard
So many places we have visited
So many people we have met
But never found a story like us
Never found a love like ours
Never knew a person like you exist
Never hoped to be ever loved like this
It was pure magic ,it was pure miracle
The meeting of us and falling in love.

Well ,enough history we studied
Roamed many palaces and castles
Let us now plunge into the kingdom of our souls
Let’s discover their genesis and exodus
And explore that real man and woman
Beneath this robe of common human
Who have fought thousand battles
Bled, wounded, cried and starved
Seen mound of deaths and loss
Walked on thorns ,and broken glasses of dreams
Yet survived unknown plagues and wars
Founded chronicles of thrones
And hoisted flags of victory .

Let our tears sing about our sorrow
And our heart beats dance with joy
Let us look into the depth of our eyes
Which speak thousand words in silence
Let us study those eloquent eyes
And catch it’s every syllable
Learn it’s every language
Let’s survey and relish our silence
For it is a dialect too.

©Glorry Shubhashree

Mist Of Rain And Fog

Mist of Rain and Fog —

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The downpour of sky in this silent dead, night
Reverberates in the zephyr with melancholy.

A whiff of nostalgic aroma stuffs my breath
Splash of raindrops stream down
On the glass of window
Leaving their stresses behind
Screaming all night a silent cry.

Wintry chill along with this thunder peal
Synergize my heart’s clangorous shrill
I sit and wait here numb in a long night vigil
Watching this deem ray of candle
How it burns and smiles in silence
Still it’s last flicker in death.

A mist of rain and fog covers the earth
Making this dreadful night more eerie.

So dull and dark my world
Just like this murky night .

Tears of solitude rains through my eyes
I succumb to this pang of an endless waiting
Until all this pain and tears evaporate
To nothingness ,like a cloud free sky.

Just like this mist of rain and fog will
When the sun will kiss the ground
At the break of dawn.

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.©Glorry Shubhashree 🍁

Eternal Pain

The graceful water can not know
The pang of a burning bonfire
The birds in sky that voyage free
Can not know , can not think
The pain and songs of a standing tree.

The breathing body doesn’t know
The silent tears of its ghoulish shadow
The dust flies up and mixes with air
But doesn’t know the countless whiplash
The frictions ,and agitation of the ground
From which it’s really took birth.

The rainforest of flaura and fauna
With murmuring streams and lucid river
The exuberant life throbbing in every corner
Doesn’t know the curse and cry
The destitution and parchedness
Of a desolate, dry ,dying wasteland.

The horizon doesn’t know
The distance of East from West
Or the chasm between earth and heaven
Neither the sundering of day and night
The vast vaccum that fills them up.
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©Glorry Shubhashree