Why did she collect diaries
Till the day before she died
And leave them all unfulfilled?
Did she enjoy their scent, each
So different from the other
But believe diaries lied since
What we choose to call our own
Experiences are never
Really ours but what we
Have shared and share with others?
And how can you if you are
True to yourself, narrate dry
Archival anecdotes from
Solely your point of view? Perhaps,
She knew that words in black and white
Don’t hesitate to wear
After the journey through the night
Insidious colours in broad daylight.
