of my personality
mar their brightness.
I retreated to the darkness instead.
I was fishing for answers
- in the murky waters of depression.
Al the fish of meaning
I put them back into the pond,
hoping that one day,
when I looked for answers again,
they would come swimming, again.
They would come for my bait of questions
- being fatter and older;
more useful now,
more nourishing and filling.
Sufficient for the void that the hunger
of my questions have created.
I don’t think I was that afraid
of heights or germs or even
I was afraid of the most probable,
likeliest, most commonplace thing
Shiksha Dheda is a South African of Indian descent. She uses writing to express her OCD and depression roller-coaster ventures. Sometimes, she dabbles in photography, painting, and baking lopsided layered cakes. Her debut poetry collection, Washed Away, is forthcoming from Alien Buddha Press.