This is one of my few attempts at writing a free-verse poetry. I had been itching to write something on the topic of painful but unerasable memories for a while. But when I finally sat down to write, I just couldn't think of an appropriate line to start with to give the poem a rhyming form. Hence, I decided to go for free-verse. I welcome suggestions from all the readers of this piece; anybody who...

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What if I spoke instead of staying still, And let my truth cut clean through comfort's shell? What if I bowed no more to someone’s will, And walked away from praise that served me well? What if I paused, and chose to hear within, And let the quiet shape a deeper me? What if the fault was not my shame or sin, But fear that kept my heart from setting free? What if the wound became a do...

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