Simran Kaur

Sometimes love learns to survive
in silence and distance.

A small poetry series begins tomorrow.
The Geography of Missing You.

The full moon is not bright...
It is remembered light,
returned without bitterness.

It has a known disappearance,
has thinned itself into silence,
has dissolved into the dark
without protest.

Yet tonight it stands whole...
not because the sky was kind,
But because it survived
its own vanishing.

It does not beg the night
to understand it.
It does not rush
to prove it is complete.

Its fullness
is not noise...
It is endurance.

And even as tides rise
aching toward it,
The moon remains distant,
untouched,
entire.

I carry the hush of dawn in my heart,
Between earth and sky, I am learning how to belong,
Where even silence feels like home,
Rooted in the wild, softened by the light.

I don’t rush to fill the quiet anymore.
I let it sit with me.
Some evenings, it doesn’t ask for answers—
just my breath,
just me being here.

I used to be scared of empty rooms.
I thought they only carried loss.
Now they feel gentler,
like open hands
that don’t need explanations.

There are parts of me still healing,
still learning how to stay.
But I don’t walk away from myself now.
I wait.
Patiently.
Until I’m ready.

Lonely isn’t empty rooms or silent phones,
It’s being full of words with nowhere to go.
I sit beside my own echo,
Learning how heavy a heartbeat can feel.

The world keeps moving past my window,
While I stay, holding pieces of myself.
Still, somewhere in this quiet ache,
I’m slowly becoming my own company.

Abandoned was the hall,
People anticipating a fall.
One girl stood out because of her bravery,
Keeping aside all her misery.

It was as if the moments were gone;
For her, everything was forlorn.
The flickering lights gave her strength,
She once wanted to give away her breath,
Now she stands against all the odds,
As she finally surrendered to God.

Anything can give you might,
It’s your time to shine bright.
Just make all the things right,
As it is your time to shine bright.

There’s power in how gently she exists.
Pic Credit:-

Good is quiet, but it stays.
Evil burns fast, but fades.
Good takes forever.

The lotus does not hurry to blossom; it unfolds with patience, layer by layer, teaching us that even in the midst of chaos, grace can be born when the soul turns toward light.

Pitter-patter, the rainfall sings,
Lights shimmer where the puddle clings.
I miss the warmth of your embrace,
This quiet ache, no time can chase.

The leaves reborn, my spirit too,
Alive, refreshed, yet longing for you.
These rains ignite a restless dive,
You are the pulse that keeps me alive.

It brightens the world,
guides the lost,
warms the cold,
and slowly fades into dusk.

But it also burns.
It scorches, blinds,
and devours in silence.

It gives life.
It can take it too.