A Woman Who Still Admires the Rain

 

I was never made for noisy worlds,
for rooms filled with hidden intentions
and smiles stitched with hypocrisy.

Since childhood,
my heart learned the language of silence,
the pause before cruelty,
the weight behind certain words,
the jealousy hidden inside laughter.

People called me rebellious
because I could not force my soul
to bow before injustice.
But I was never fighting for chaos,
I was only trying to protect
the softest parts of myself.

So I walked away from places
that made my light feel shameful.
I chose distance,
not because I hated people,
but because my heart was tired
of surviving around them.

Now I find comfort
in quieter things.

The warmth of tea between my hands,
rain touching the earth gently,
wind passing through my hair,
sunlight falling on tired eyes
like a promise from God
that life still carries beauty.

The moon feels kinder to me
than most people ever did.
The stars listen without judgment.
And somewhere between the silence of night
and the sound of my own breathing,
I am learning
that peace is also a form of love.

I do not want to change the world anymore.
I only want a small, honest life —
a calm heart,
a love that feels safe,
and mornings where I can exist
without defending who I am.

If healing has a face,
perhaps it looks like this:
a woman who survived storms
and still stops
to admire the rain. 

                                    KULSOOM AFZAL