Silent Sparks

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Every morning, I wake up
to the sound of my ringing alarm,
but I'm more alarmed
as each hour ticks by—
not by the clock,
but by the gaze I cast
when I look at time passing.

What’s my power button?
My laptop has one,
in the top right corner,
knowing when to power on
and when to rest—
so sure of itself,
while I search for mine.

What’s my power button?
The plant in my balcony grins,
its hidden button pressed
by sunlight and rain.
With every drop and every ray,
it dances in a quiet, green sway.

What’s my power button?
Is it the blare of an alarm?
Or the taste of my favorite brownie?
Perhaps it’s the kind words
I hear about myself,
lifting me like a secret switch,
bringing me back to life.

-Namrata

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