Where Sunflowers Grow

Sometimes people step where sunflowers grow,

Sometimes they do not mean to,

But sometimes they do,

Because people have a tendency to destroy the things that they deem

Beautiful.

 

I am too serious; I am no fun at all.

I am too quiet and too talkative,

Too small, and yet I take up too much space.

I am unfriendly and arrogant,

Too outspoken, and yet too reserved.

I am a paradox, an oxymoron, a walking

Bundle of contradictions.

I am too sensitive, and yet too severe,

I am too much, but I am never enough,

And I will never be enough:

Even if I were to drown, I’d still need more water.

 

Sometimes, when breathing in the oxygen of this Earth becomes unbearable,

I wish I could escape to the skies, beyond the rigid confines

of this atmosphere.

I wish I could pick the stars from the galaxy like plums,

And I wish that the Sun were a mango,

And that life was always just as sweet.

 

So I apologise, sincerely, for taking up the space that I do,

But I hope you know that whatever you are thinking about me,

I’ll be thinking it too.

 

Because people speculate;

They spit out their words like sunflower seeds,

Stormy showers sent down from skies of darkness,

They have the upper hand,

But little do they know that the darkness behind me is proof of the sunlight

That lies ahead.

 

And little do they know,

That their words do not hurt me-

They only make my garden grow.


Sadia Ahmed, 2017

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