A Poem by Diksha Dharewa
They said I’d rise—
not like the sun that follows a script,
but like a storm that rewrites the sky.
They bet on me with hearts wide open,
while I stood, unsure,
counting shadows instead of stars.
I’ve doubted the mirror,
its silence too loud,
its truth too soft to hold.
Am I really the fire they speak of,
or just the flicker that dances
before fading into ash?
But then—
there are voices that don’t echo,
they anchor.
Eyes that don’t just look,
they believe.
Hands that don’t push,
they lift.
I’ve been lucky,
not for the praise,
but for the presence.
For the ones who see the spark
when I see smoke.
Who speak of my flight
while I’m still learning to stand.
So I walk,
not alone,
but with the wind of their faith
braiding through my spine.
And maybe, just maybe,
I’ll rise—
not because I must,
but because they saw I could
before I ever did.
Bio of the Poet: Diksha Dharewa is a 5th sem BBA student at Degree Campus, Biratnagar.
