Miral Javed

Magic Door

Magic Door

Flawed Hayat

“‘Hayat’ is a word I used from my mother language, Urdu, which means ‘existence.’ I want to share how ‘mirrors’ are actually the eyes of people. I see myself as imperfect, yet it's the love I am missing for myself. It’s just like epiphany: the message of Bangtan.”

I sit there again
In a maze to be exact
A room fill of mirrors
Thousands of me reflecting
A tear slides down
As every reflection is imperfect
Mirrors as eyes of predators
As I doubt my existence
The voices inside me shout
Every flaw makes me weak
Unless the chaos overpowers
I see myself in a sea
Shattered mirrors, an odd relief
An existential crisis washed away
My limbs tremble
But I feel safe now
No more mirrors
No more of an imperfect me
As a door shines faraway
Bright and open
Stumbling, reaching the knob
escape out of this labyrinth
No more under judgements
Slowly, I accept it
All the flaws, all the odds
In a world I build alone
I never wanted them
The storms, the raindrops
In fact, they were what I needed
To be me, to love me
The imperfect yet perfect me

Healing

“This is something really close, as I shared one of my life experiences. When I gave up on something I loved, I went under a dark phase. When I stood up, accepted my fate, and did things for myself, it felt safe and happy.”

The glass shatters as the voice resonates,
Her heart clenching as she cries,
Her body shaking with silent sobs,
The palms covering her ears,
Will the pain fade away?
The sheets hide the light rays,
As the sun goes down,
Darkness, night sky ,making their way,
She opens up her eyes, her trembling fingers,
Counting the days, which seem to never end,
her hope is like a leaf that dangles alone on a shaking branch,
The suffering never goes away,

But she has some plans,
She finally breathes in deeply,
Wearing her bunny slippers,

Walking upon the thorns,
Standing in front of the broken mirror,
She sees a reflection again.

It's a sunny day, as the girl rides a bicycle,
Smiling, taking her painting aisle,
She pressed the brakes, as she stops,
Running over a bridge, that blooms with spring,
Hours of strokes, as a grin never leaves her face,
She looks at the canvas she painted,
Sitting beside the ethereal lake,
She pats herself, signing her painting right away,
But what happens next, leaves her wrecked,
Moments later, the canvas is torn,
Splashes of paint, ruining the efforts,
She stands there broken,
Among beasts, that snatched her charm away,
Among predators, that took her hopes away.

Again, she is here,
In front of the broken mirror,
Looking at her reflection, like every other day,
Yet today, she gathers courage,
Touching the empty girl, crying in front of her,

The her of yesterday,

Two fingers meet, from either side,
As the broken mirror starts mending,
The moment she promises herself,
To be what she was meant to be
Finding an escape,
The her of today, walking over the broken glasses,
Her feet bleed as she walks to the old trunk now,
Canvases, paints, her aisle,
Everything lives in there, since that day,
She smiles to herself, pulling them out,
Finally bursting the bubble,
Breaking the ice that froze her.

Now she stands in an art gallery,
As crowds cheer for her,
Walls full of paintings she had created,
Hundreds of people admiring her,
Her gaze falls on a mirror again,
She walks up to it, as she sees her,
The old reflection,
No longer sad, as a happy tear slips,
As the her of yesterday and today,
Smile, looking at each other,
Proud of choosing herself,
Choosing her own way.

Moonchild

“I wanted to share what we all do: chasing things that aren't meant for us. Although they look bright like the Sun, it’s important to look out for yourself, not for something everyone looks out for. Maybe you are a moonchild.”

Just because Sun was a star,
She chose to chase it every morning,
Stumbling, weak, too slow,
Was she not enough?

She pulled her arms and made a bowl,
Her palms collecting the raindrops,
As the clouds dried away,
Leaving her with empty, bare hands.

A path full of stones,
Making her legs bleed, as she shut her eyes,
Walking upon the thorns,
Was this her way to heal?

Another day, she waited for the Sun,
Quite earlier, sitting on a broken chair,
Her gaze meeting the moonlight,
Sending her an odd relief.

The night sky had no clouds,
Her palms were bare again,
Yet it felt magical, counting the stars,
As she smiled to herself.

She looked at herself, as a tear slipped,
The thorns clearing away, one by one,
A day when she decided to be herself,
A rose bud, that lives as a moon child.

Never Again

“I went through a friendship breakup, and I suffered a lot. Today, when the phase is over, I can feel happy and laugh about how once I was so tense. But some days, I don't have the same feelings. It is okay to move on and love yourself.”

The petals crumble in the dark
My chest doesn’t sting anymore
The numbness is all gone
The old me is not here anymore
My own reflection dazzles me
As I smile wide in the mirror
Amidst polaroids lying around
I don’t suffer anymore
Looking at us, looking back
The feeling that crippled up my spine
Has long left me
Wanting to shed tears
Wanting to stare at our smiles
I can not do it, not again
All I see the next moment
Is a crumbled memory lying down
A predicted storm had passed
Waves crashing on my shore
But like the big rock that stands alone
I am not broken anymore