Courage

I drove often to see her,
a terrible ache just above the chest.
I would drive for miles, 17 years old,
knowing the roads by heart having
tried so many nights, 
only to turn back.

After all, I lacked courage, 
didn’t have the right words, 
or so I thought.
My dark hands gripping the steering wheel
filled with hope and longing 
terrified me.

Over the years 
I have learned to be brave
as we all do in our own way,
brave enough to leave, to stay,
to pray, to speak tenderness into 
those broken places,
to hold our ground against 
brittle old stories under our feet.

I was brave.
I knew that one cannot betray
the pull of love,
the body’s fire

The desire

to be whole.

Even then, I knew that courage 
didn’t lie at her door,
but travelled for miles, day after day, 
year after year, through the pale
glare of street lights,
daring to be loved,
determined to be free.

Anki Sinha