Question
written by: Vibha
@vibhalohani3
Covered with the dust of time
On the shelf called life,
Holding tattered pages
Is a book called – self.
Illustrated with roses & thorns
And a path forlorn,
Leaving me confused…
Walk or wait,
As it heads towards
an unknown gate
Not a song, rhythm or sound
for the tired soul.
Is a tempest on rise
Camouflaged by the calm?
The thoughts disheveled
in a pattern of loneliness
I wonder …
I question
I
am I living?
Vibha
Vibha Lohani is an author, translator and storyteller. Her stories have been published by Penguin Random House, Pratham and Amaryllis as part of anthologies. Her story 'Manu's Mango Friend' is available in six different languages (English, HIndi, Malyalam, Filipino, Tibetan and Mandarin) on StoryWeaver's open source platform. Her story has been published as a part of the First Book On Road Safety in India 'Have A Safe Journey' promoted by the Ministry of Road Transport and Highways.
She also runs a story telling and creative expression programme called Abhivyakti for underprivileged children to encourage them to read and write.
She also runs a story telling and creative expression programme called Abhivyakti for underprivileged children to encourage them to read and write.
Latest posts by Vibha (see all)
- Sins Of The Father - November 23, 2017
- Question - November 9, 2017
