Before the Quiet Left : MEHVISH NAQVI

Before the Quiet Left

MEHVISH NAQVI

​Each passing year I fade away,

Not beauty lost, that does not stay.

What breaks my soul, what leaves me raw,

Is losing what I never thought I'd lose at all.

​I try to keep that light alive,

That gentle spark that helped me thrive.

The part of me that loved the rain,

Before this world taught fear and pain.

​She tucked her dolls in close at night,

Convinced they'd dream in fading light.

Who named the cracks upon the stone,

And loved a world that was her own.

​Who saw the stars with open eyes,

Before the world taught her to hide.

Who found her joy in a gentle breeze,

And laughed with an uncalculated ease.

​Somewhere a quiet music box still turns,

For a girl this woman almost mourns.

There is a shelf I cannot face...

Stuffed bears that held a softer grace.

​They sit the same. I am the one

Who changed, who left, who came undone.

​I said I'm fine so many times

Until my heart believed it too,

Until I lost the words for what

I actually knew.

​The world calls this maturity, this ache,

The art of smiling while you slowly break.

They handed us the armor, never said

What softness we would bury with our dead.

​But still I ask, and always will,

Why must a gentle heart go still?

Why was the price of making it through

Every soft and wondering part I knew?

​Beneath the weight of heavy years,

Beyond the sorrow and the fears,

A gentle voice remains inside,

Though bruised by life, it has not died.

​And maybe softness does survive,

In every heart that stays alive.

Not loud, not untouched, not the same,

But still a flickering, tender flame.

(Mehvish Naqvi is a writer from Jammu and Kashmir, India, and a student of English Literature holding a Master’s degree. She has co-authored several anthologies, including Change Your Thoughts and Axiom under Spectrum of Thoughts, along with Sacrifice associated with the Solaced Pentacles community.)