the purifier
the purifier
We don’t ask for it
ever
yet, like weather,
it shows up
moves in
We bear
the flame, breathe
through it
while scrambling
for solutions
Bracing intensifies it
but pain met, unflinching
becomes heat, pressure
pulse—sensation
with no name
nothing else in the room
This is a beautiful poem, Amrita. It doesn't resist pain or explain it—it simply stays with it. Thank you for sharing something so deeply felt.
As you know, I recently lost my only nephew, Arnab. Your poem reached me at a time when pain has been sitting quietly beside our family too.
Wishing you comfort, strength, and gentler days ahead.
Thank you so much, Amrita. No apology needed at all—I actually smiled when I realized the "purifier" and "pacifier" mix-up. 😊
I'm so sorry to hear you're dealing with such severe physical pain. I hope the doctors are able to give you both relief and healing soon.
Thank you, too, for your kind words about Arnab and my family. Your compassion means more than you know. Wishing you comfort, courage, and brighter days ahead.