Samridhi Girdhar/The Baron
I’m offered a room,
where memories bloom,
A doorway back to my mind’s own tomb.
What did I see, you ask with a grin?
Come, take a seat, let the tale begin.
I met with Death, her grip ice-cold,
She played my fate with fingers bold.
I saw a man, his sins were slight,
Yet I could not ignore the blight.
I met my mother, bound in chains,
Drowning deep in silent pains.
I met my father, stripped and bare,
The weight he bore was too much to bear.
I met my sister, braced and strong,
Holding tight so nothing went wrong.
I met my brother, bright and free,
A smile so pure it shone for me.
I saw my peers, their spirits breaking,
Saw my friends, their steps forsaking.
I turned to Death and asked her why,
She said, “You call me when you cry.”
I laughed and said, “Then let me stay,
Let me wither, fade away.
The dark consumes, the light will burn,
Yet still, we glow and twist and turn.”
“So let me blaze, let me create,
Let me carve my own dark fate.
Let me live, let me be free,
A soul unchained in misery.”
She sighed and whispered, soft and deep,
“Your path holds pain, but tonight just sleep.”
![Policemen stand guard in front of the Bangladesh Election Commission office ahead of the general election schedule announcement in Dhaka, Bangladesh, December 11, 2025 [Mohammad Ponir Hossain/Reuters]](https://thebaron.ca/wp-content/uploads/bb-plugin/cache/Screenshot-2026-01-23-at-9.48.54-AM-square-9f2b98d2eff6d31d5a83828c4d5ff7ce-.png "Screenshot 2026-01-23 at 9.48.54 AM")
