There is a chasm of tears,

My soul oft! Visits,

Without arousing,

The corporeal body,

Leaves in hushed,

Murmurs, a casement,

Remains ever unbolt,

Enters my soul there,

Without taking me,


It keeps probing for,

Something in those,

Kaput pieces of past,

That penetrated deep,

In my body, with bruises,

Still resting as marks,

They said the tears,

Would heal, and so my,

Soul wants to steal,


Few droplets filled,

In that chasm flowing,

As rivulet, innocence,

Doesn’t make it see,

Those tears are mine,

When in days yore,

I paid pilgrimage to that,

Door where mayhem,

Was my mate!


And to sluice the twinge,

Purge and cleanse,

Burden that grave,

I seldom kept going,

To the pilgrimage in solace,

My soul yet trapped,

Doesn’t know the salt,

From tear’s rivulet shall,

Blaze my flesh of past wounds,


Even the sanctity of pilgrimage,

Won’t heal, perhaps till I breathe…

*Monalisa Joshi*


2 thoughts on “Pilgrimage

    1. I know the poem is bit melancholic but don’t worry sister I am all good and this kind of feelings ignites my creativity. Thank you Iet for visiting my space and leaving your words ❤

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