I’ll be Fine with Being: English poem by Hira Mehar

Cooing doves fly away from tired willow
Though Autumn has not yet arrived,
They went to search for another home.
The weeping willow will be fine,
And I will be fine,
In a world where I am left to stand alone,
Where I am, but I am not–
Where seeing is an illusion, and grief shapes you
As people live more in their thoughts than present
While past is mourned, and future feared,
Where people die several times before death.
But I will be fine in a world
Where words are sharper than swords,
more lethal than poison,
Dismantling relations in seconds,
Catastrophes for hearts.

The moon too pales on the nights of endless despair
But I’ll eventually be fine with being,
Though being itself has driven me to madness.