***  The Release.  ***

Royal Club for Literature and Peace 

*** The Release. ***

Sanjay Singh

***  The Release.  ***

There were hours when laughter bloomed,

so wild it carved soft rivers on my skin,

wrinkles sprouting like gentle roots,

marking where joy once made its home.

My gray strands, silvered threads of time,

whispered not of loss but of love—

each one a candle I burnt

to keep another warm in the dark.

The scars upon me were not wounds,

but maps etched by storms I survived,

like broken glass stitched into mosaics,

telling strangers of battles never sung.

Yet I watched, with helpless eyes,

as fragile bonds were slaughtered—

ego the sharpened blade,

ignorance the silence that tightened the noose,

attitude the cold wind that blew out the flame.

And so I chose—

to lay down the weapons memory carried,

to forgive, not for the guilty,

but to set this weary soul free,

a prisoner who found the key

hidden in his own heart.

Sanjay Singh

documentation: Waffaa Badarneh