Utopia

Utopia

Away from my grandmother’s house, 

into the forests that envelop it, 

I walk on, slipping on moss 

stepping on creepers,

avoiding the itchy plant I cannot name

almost walking into a banana shoot. 

I walk on, not knowing where I want to be. 

I stop suddenly

for in the middle, I see 

a large, empty meadow with 

soft looking baby pink flowers

empty, save for chirping birds and noisy insects.

suddenly feeling like a foreigner, I want to walk away.

I want to but I fail. 

Unsure of what to name the tugging in my chest, 

I stagger towards the meadow 

feeling my knees give out.

kneeling in the middle of the meadow, 

comfort, I breathe out, 

touching my forehead to the ground 

comfort, I repeat, letting the word fall softly from my lips 

comfort, like a mother’s loving embrace,

like a friend’s knowing glance, 

warmth, that brings forth tears. 

The meadow cradles me, 

rocking my sobbing self back and forth; 

I’m her child for many hours. 

Walking back, unaware of my way out,

I’m at ease somehow, 

without a care about where I place my feet

slipping and stumbling again, 

I’m home, I whisper, beaming, 

feeling lighter than I’ve felt in forever 

wanting to hold onto that feeling

refusing to leave, to let go. 

joy, knowing that this green escape 

is my secret paradise. 


Udbhavi Balakrishna
Udbhavi Balakrishna

Udbhavi writes short stories, poetry, and her thoughts on society and culture.

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