My friend Priti Vitankar wrote a collection of poems that I thought was beautiful, so she gave me permission to post them here. Priti is from Mumbai, India and she is an Operations Management major and part of the University of Cincinnati Class of 2023. She has lived in 5 countries and is an equestrian. This collection is centered around a theme of coping with sadness. “Infected” and “My Sanity” are about quarantine. I hope you guys enjoy reading them as much as I do!
Infected
It’s near me, all around me
But I don’t have it
It’s changed everything I know to be normal
It’s changed the course of my life
And yet, I still don’t have it
As each person falls and falls
The world starts to tremble
For the mistake of one can affect the other
What must we live upon?
What must we do?
For I am infected without being too
My Sanity
Sanity; I’m losing it
Day by day, it creeps away
The tapping of my feet
The faster breathing
The voice inside me wanting to get out
To scream in frustration to scream in pain
What has my life come to?
Locked in with the annoyance
Day after day. Increasing.
The voices outside are no better than the ones in
The constant words
The constant looks
I’ve come so close to the edge
I might just fall
Fall to where? I must see.
Is this madness really a reality?
Path
Two steps forward, one step back.
Not as easy, as it seems,
Another path is what you seek
Perhaps one, that you have already found
But not a way you want to go on.
Confessing shows the knowledge of the path
Knowledge means you know it’s the only way out
You know what it is
I don’t have to repeat twice
Two steps forward, three steps back
Alas, I have said it
And you know, it will last
Around your mind it will go,
Threatening you with your darkest fears
For this isn’t as simple as you must have thought
The steps are known but never shown
Don’t be a fool,
This isn’t cruel.
It’s the path everyone must take,
Before it’s too late
Take a step back and turn yourself around
But don’t run back
That’s all that counts
SCISSORS
A symbol of happiness
A symbol of pain
Cuts through the pages of yesterday
Smooth or rough, it may go
Straight or askew, it may cut
Can be glued into something new
Zigzagged, is how it may remain
Scars will stay, all through time
Relived or not,
That’s up to you.
The pages have been cut
And now the time has come,
To be something new
Writings by Ria 