1 min read

Baby witch, baby fish, baby creator, you are my flower child

at work, on stage, daily at the writing desk, I need you, my flower child

Starved of soothing sounds, you cried alone, screaming into silent rooms

Petals shut up, you drooped, you survived alone as sour child

Everywhere a drought of meaning, a poem here and there, weak delight

You sat on a bulb of nectar but patiently waited for a sweet shower, child

See, see where we have come, so far into the land of spinach and papaya

Parties of affection around pools of ink. Don’t you feel the power, child?

I know though, what is missing. I can’t run away with begging bowls

when you need my faith hugs, my kind words the most at this hour, child

I’ll hold you gently, as we stem up through life, I’ll be your moist soil

allow the breeze to move your body, feel your fragrance, my flower child

raju tai is a curriculum designer, writer, and writing facilitator. She is passionate about creating and facilitating workshop experiences in which women and teens harness the transformative power of their creativity. Her poems have appeared in Muse India, Hakara, The Alipore Post, and In Plainspeak. Her essays are published in collections like Yaari: An Anthology on Friendship by Women and Queer Folx (forthcoming), Age of Anxiety, along with websites like Scroll, Firstpost, and Buzzfeed. In writing, she finds healing, courage, and playfulness.

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