She will always be an unfinished poem. by Nur Houda Or

She will always be an unfinished poem.

Unfinished in the way she lives -

where passion collides with fear,

and potential and failure reside in the same home. There is this great risk,

a constant edge of falling apart

no matter what she pursues.

That’s her way through the world.

I wonder if she chooses this incompletion

or if fate carved it into her life

before she ever had a say.

And I wonder -

if I finish something she couldn’t,

would that mean her fate isn’t mine after all?

- Nur Houda Or

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