Some inherit gold.
Some inherit silence.
Others carry stories that were never told but are always present.
The two poems below are reflections from a tired mind on a feverish day,
haunted not by the illness alone,
but by memories, tensions, and legacies that stretch beyond our own lifetimes.
They explore how time moves on — mercilessly, tenderly —
while we, the living, try to breathe through it,
carrying what our ancestors left behind,
both in their love
and in their wounds.
The Inheritance
They say we inherit land,
jewels glittering in velvet boxes,
a surname polished with pride—
and silence.
But what of the things
never spoken aloud?
The feuds we weren’t part of,
yet somehow grew around
like trees bending to avoid
ancestral shadows.
We tiptoe through rooms
carved by old disagreements—
learning early
to translate sighs into stories,
glances into warnings.
Their bitterness
was never born in ease.
They too were young once,
full of fire
until the world poured
cold water over them.
They swallowed dreams
too big for their time,
and learned
to live with less
by building walls
they thought were homes.
Now they guard those walls—
not knowing
we see the cracks.
We don’t hate them.
But we carry
what they couldn’t leave behind.
And still,
we try to grow—
not against them,
but beyond.
A Feverish Day in 2025
A slight rise in temperature—
yet the mind crumbles
as if it carries the weight
of all failed revolutions.
The news channel won’t end.
It spins fear into the air
like dust caught in light—
invisible until it stings the eyes.
I wonder,
how many of these battles
did our parents endure
without a word,
without the language
we now borrow from therapy and tweets?
How many days
did our grandmothers wake up
with a tired heart,
a silent prayer,
and still cook a full meal
before noon?
I lie under a fan,
counting every second,
wondering if I have grown too soft,
or simply more aware.
Outside,
the world rushes on—
tractors, buses, viral reels,
market bells, vaccine reminders,
another breaking war
on mute.
Inside me,
time moves too,
slow and steady,
carrying me forward
whether I am ready
or not.
