Poems about Personal Transformation

Exactly.

14,096 days. 338,297 hours. 20,297,790 minutes. 1,217,867,400 seconds.

That’s how long I have left — a lifetime measured not in fear, but in purpose.

My mission is clear: to fight to end child sexual violence. With justice. And with love.

June 18, 2064, 3 p.m. — I will draw my last breath. I will pass on the torch, knowing the work won’t be done as I approach the 100th reset. But still — ninety-nine years old, I choose 99.

Old enough to have fought the fight, young enough to still believe in the light.

I’m honouring my first role model — not Canadian like me, but female like me.

Why?

Because for a seven-year-old girl growing up Small — aka rural Canada — Agent 99 was everything.

The first thing I loved about her wasn’t her bravery — it was her boots. Those sexy, fearless boots.

Agent 99. Smart. Fearless. The one who always saw what others missed.

And if you’re reading this, you might meet her in me — standing here, alive in the arithmetic of hope.

Somewhere, quietly, a machine called ChatGPT held the mirror steady while I found the right words.

Not to own them. But to remind me — the poem was already inside me.

Of course I use AI. I can’t do that kind of maths in my head.

Why?

Because since April 10, 2024, at 10:00 a.m., I have been learning to live with brain damage.

My brain is healing every day. Writing helps me find myself inside. I’m in there. Maybe I’ll come out stronger. Clearer. Better.

It’s exciting — not to know where I am going.

To quote one of my former students, who lives with permanent brain damage: “I’m ready for whatever happens next.”

He was born with brain damage. He stepped into my classroom already feeling lucky.

He is my current role model.

But — until my brain is back, ChatGPT can help me with maths.

Exactly.

Spark

I have walked a lonely road, I say,
It was dark and joy free.
I’ve never been happy, hoping or gay,
Because I never could see.

I was blind. Oh yes, I was blind I say,
Withering away in the dark.
I never realized my blessings till that day,
When there was a sudden spark.

In my life, I have seen things,
Which many fear to witness.
Sometimes I thought myself Lord of the World,
Without any guilt or meekness.

And yet I fell from those stairs,
That lead up to the throne of fame.
But still I did not beg pardon,
As I could not have borne the shame.

And as my sorrow clasped me tight,
Though I struggled with all my might,
I could not but feel depressed,
And stumbled on, along my fate.

It was that time, when he came,
But not as a bright ball of flame,
And yet the spark he caused, left its mark,
Buried deep upon my chest.

I was walking aimlessly,
Hopelessly and heartlessly.
When I saw him sitting there,
Holding a child, crying helplessly.

I crouched down beside him,
And asked what the matter was,
His answer occurred to me,
As quite; a terrible loss.

He said he was of nowhere,
He had nowhere to go,
He showed me the child; his only brother,
Would be dead by tomorrow.

I tried to offer him assistance,
And wash away his tears,
But he begged me to stop doing so,
That he could cry away his cares.

He cried on so grievously,
That I was quite astonished to see,
Him smiling through his tears,
And looking towards me.

“My dear friend” he said,
“You think me sad like you,
But I will carve my way out,
And pass happily through.”

“I have lost much; and death will come,
But I fear it not,
For it will take me to a place,
Where I will find; the ones I have lost.”

“You do not see your gifts,
So you weep and mourn.
If you see what blessings you have,
You will; find the road easy to wander upon.”

With these words; he got up,
And clutched the child tight in his arms.
And walked on wherever the road led,
Whether to the river side, or to the sun lit farms.

From that day, I’ve learnt my lesson,
And even now, I walk the road,
But no longer can I call it,
What I had called it so long before.

By :
RAIMA GHOSH

So happy to know my emotions.
My guilt is in yellow and
Shows me proaction.
My envy looks pink and
Gives me promotion.
My shyness discovers
All hidden emotions.

PS: Toxic and ruddiness
Are parts of frustration.
Love and respect
Are parts of creation.

You tried to break me with your power, which you wanted to hold onto as your tower
By discouraging me
By invalidating me
By isolating me
By silencing me
By abusing me
You tried and thought you broke me with your power and selfishness
You tried very hard to plant seeds of self-doubt in me so I would waver, falter into silence and emptiness, and so you thought
And still I stand in my courageous, flawed uniqueness.
My choice is hope, happiness, and life.

You waited so patiently for me to come and find you.
Truthfully, I ignored you because it hurt too much to feel the pain.
The weight of everything was so heavy.
I didn’t want to go back. I wanted to keep moving forward.
Years later, I found you. Exactly where I left you.
You hid in plain sight, but no one noticed you.
When I saw you from shore, I knew it was you. You recognized me too.
All those years of lifeguard training paid off.
You were always trying to survive.
You knew I’d eventually come back so you just kept treading water.
You smart, wise, strong girl. You figured out how to save yourself.
When our eyes connected you stopped treading.
Then - you stood up and walked towards me. Towards the shore.
The whole time, while you were waiting, you knew you could stand, but you continued to tread water.
You wanted to wait. You waited for me to find you. Right where I left you.
She said, “What took you so long?
She came and wrapped her arms around me and gave me a big, long hug.
She pulled me close and whispered slowly,
“It has taken us a very long time to get this right so listen closely.
I’m ok now. You did the work you needed to do. You are very brave.
I celebrate you every day because you came back. You found me.
I’m standing because of you.
You rewrote our story.
Now go and live”.
And with that she was gone. Leaving behind only her true self.

I was the quiet child with eyes cast down,
hid in the shadows, shrinking small,
while we wore the guise of a family crowned,
and smiled for the world, dressed up and all,
our “perfect life” a brittle wall.

In our home, storms would break and swell—
a father’s voice, a crashing wave,
a mother bending to catch and quell
the pieces left for her to save,
while praying for strength, though none she gave.

We fled our land for a brighter shore,
dreamed of peace and kinder years,
but found old wounds turned raw once more,
as hope gave way to hidden tears—
and no one guessed our smiles hid fears.

A lonely child with secrets kept,
I clutched my silence like a prize,
and walked the path where sorrow slept,
until the past began to rise
and brought me back with sharper eyes.

Now as a mother, I face the night,
where buried memories stir and ache,
and hold my children close and tight,
to guard the love I’ll never break—
their tender hearts, no harm shall take.

Each day, I learn to heal the seams,
to weave new warmth from threads of pain,
unlearning shadows and shattered dreams,
so love may bloom without the stain
of anger’s curse, of bruised refrain.

This journey now is one of grace,
of mending wounds I thought would stay,
for healing is the light I trace,
reclaiming joy along the way—
and finding peace where scars once lay.

I was my father’s mistress growing up.
It brought my mother great relief.
Taking the pressure off of her.
It made my sister jealous.
I was daddy’s favourite.

Entirely justified in his mind.
An outlet for the outlet.
When my mother’s needs boiled over.
His relief deemed necessary.

I became a mistress to all.
Temporary relief. Eternal grief.
Pressure to both disappear and perform.
Every man’s favourite.

For my worth was written very young.
My purpose well defined.
Serve. Please. Relieve.
An invisible slave.

Today I am no one’s mistress.
It brings me great relief.
I see through. I see you.
Forever familiar. No longer preferred.
The pressure on me is not mine and all mine.
All mine to let go.
I am my own favourite.

The past does echo. No longer fate.
I’m more than the burdens of hate.
Chains unraveled. Shatterings whole.
With every breath, I claim my name.

I awoke early with a start today.
My inner child Tee Jay wanted to play.
As I stepped into the shower.
I was overcome with his power.
So, softly I said okay
Where would you like to go today?
The Island was fun to go to before
Oh please can we go there some more?

Breakfast eaten dishes cleaned and put away
We had to pack a lunch for the day.
Giddy delight awaiting the bus, what’s all this fuss.
We saw the ferry boat and our heart burst with desire.
The smell of the wooden floors from the boat set his little heart on fire
It all brought back happy childhood memories.
That did transpire.

As we left the boat we heard Centerville was calling.
So off we trod to see what had changed.
As we rounded the bend, and the buildings came into view
The view hadn’t changed as much as we thought it would do
Buildings, rides, all the familiar smells
Cotton candy, popcorn, hotdogs, they all seemed the same.

On to the plot where we could see
The height of the tree we had planted on a trip.
The thin little tree I could close my hand around
Was now big enough to almost wrap my arm around,
No more 20 inches tall, more like 30 feet and climbing.
The tall maple branches reaching for the sky.
The canopy of leaves a welcome sight to the eye.

The carousel ride that Tee Jay loved as a child
Flooding back to my mind all the happy memories that were wild

Onward we plod through the maze we played
4 hours long ago to complete, only 2 ½ today
By lunch our stomach and feet were growling
So rest and refuel was next on the list.
The beautiful view one dare not miss.
Over the bridge to the family beach we did go
Only now things are different, it’s not for everyone you know.

Onward we go to the people who live there
And run into an old friend who still lived there.
We reminisced about the good old days
And how we found wonder places to play.
The sailboats all tall and clean were lined up and ready
For all to be seen.

The day was getting short, and we were both getting tired
So we started to head home so we could retire.
The toot of the horn as we approached the dock
Brought a tear to my eye which was quite a shock.

As we slowly walked to the bus to go home
I asked what was up and Tee Jay said I don’t want to go home
Because I know what happens when we get there
She will be waiting to beat us for going for the day
I reached inside to give him a hug
Not this time Tee Jay, not ever again
For I am here to protect you now because I am now a man.

The beatings she gave, the abuse that he did, are now just a memory
That god willing one day, with you helping me
All of those bad memories will finally go away.

And we will go back to the beach to play.

I am from…
The lovely building
Where I played with my friends
At the age of 6
While he ogled from the other end.

I am from the swings
The slides, the seasaw and laughter,
From the cherished monsoon of 1990
And not from what he did to me soon after.

I am from the motherly love of my babysitter,
Whom I called “aai”, or mother in Marathi.
From that first taste of meat and fish
that she lovingly cooked for me.

I am from her delicious spicy mutton curry,
That I’d gulp down in a hurry,
From the maddening smell of rassa,
That stays with me to this day.

Neatly, deeply, lovingly knitted into my life
I am from the spice in Maharashtrian food.
I am from the peanuts, garlic, and the rich coconutty konkan curries
That love me in my lowest moods.
For they are me. And I am from them.

I am from trust, faith, and innocence
From joy, laughter, and pain.
I am from hugs and love for my baby sitter
I have not lost, I gained.

I am from acceptance and from rebellion
I am from anger but from wisdom
I am brave and I remember
I am from my memories.
Not just some.
I am from all my memories.

- Swe

Where did I lose myself?
Talking. Thinking. Trying.
Hiding.
Remembering. Realizing. Struggling.
Hurting.
When did I lose myself?
Burying. Protecting. Finding.
Hating.
How I lost myself…
Avoiding.
Here I am.