Smooth as glass.

There she sits,
In a state of confusion, and suppressed panic.
There she sits,
Ruffled, shaken, jolted, broken.

She sulks for a day or two,
Then takes to crying.
Her vision blurred with pain and tears,
What remains it seemed, was only dying.

They wonder what it is,
But can only wonder.
They probe a little further, and then a little more,
Getting but no answers, only bemused parents, sisters, brothers.

All’s well, she assures them,
And that is that, and all that she will say.
They aren’t convinced, but they leave her to herself,
Trying to retreat to the normal, trusting now only their prayers.

Time, as they say, heals fast and plays its cards,
Her smile is now back- wide, and pretty, beating the pricks.
They say no lie, when they call her a warrior, fighting the odds, battling the evens,
Falling, but rising later nonetheless- smooth as glass, sure as a PHOENIX.

– Stuti

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