And how the body heals-Megha Sood


And how the body teaches itself to heal

to get up 

shed off the scars

the sullen time has left behind

rub off all the cobwebs 

of the stale vapid moments

nesting in you for time forever 

taking shelter in your mind

feasting on your memories

like maggots

and sucking off the light 

that was once so divine


And the how the body teaches itself to recover

by crying profusely 

pouring out the tears

chaos of the lonely soul 

that deep lamentation 

that once gone sour

and how it springs that fountain of elixir

stemming from the depths of your heart

to cleanse you

once again

and to baptize your sins

marking you as a nubile

a soul apart


And how the body fight and shuts itself down

cocooned within itself 

sitting cross-legged in the dark 

hunched by the pain of the 

deep remorse

and sitting in complete silence 

mute and numb to the core

those screech and 

the screams are falling on the 

deaf and dead ears 

when the cacophony 

gets too loud to hear

and your mind plays soliloquy 

with its core


And how the body preaches itself 

that’s it OK to love and heal once again

let the old scars heal 

for the new ones to 

be born again.

The body never forgets to heal

even though we forget to remind it.

–Megha Sood

We, the broken- Megha Sood


Dreams crushed and pulverized to the core
I walk alone on this path
broken and sore;
this emptiness seeps
loneliness sits neatly in my pores
Silence screams the loudest
at its core;
a flag stripped of its mast
I’m trying to gather the pieces of me
splintered and stuck in
hundreds of soul
faces– known to me
faces I ignore;
I unpluck and unclutch parts of me
lodged in all the bleary hearts
I once loved
to whom I bared my soul;
We, the broken
like a lost piece of the puzzle
always searching
always alone.

–Megha Sood

Inspired by Eric Syrdal and Jessica Nodarse


Shortlisted for a state level poetry contest- Please vote-“A Journey towards freedom”–Megha Sood

Dear blogging family,

I’m happy and excited to share the news that one of my poems got shortlisted

for “NAMI NJ Dara Axelrod Expressive Arts 2019 Mental Health Poetry Contest” among top 10 finalists.

They will be choosing the winners based on voting. Please click on the link

here to cast your vote. They have concealed the name of the poet -The name of my

entry is “A Journey towards freedom

Please do me a favor and vote for your fellow blogger.

Thanks a million,

Megha Sood

Megha Sood Shares Her Favorite Indie Feminist Books of 2018

Name: Megha Sood

Where you post your writing:


We Will not be Silenced ( Indie Blu(e) Press), 2018
Oddball Magazine
Scrittura Magazine
Dime Show Review
Fourth and Sycamore
KOAN ( Paragon Press)
Vita Brevis Literature

Three favorite indie books of 2018

1.  Composition of a woman

Author: Christine E Ray

Where it can be purchased: Amazon

Christine Ray’s debut composition of poetry is a candid and powerful glimpse into the essence of womanhood. The ease and the sheer brilliance she portrays in her writing is highly commendable. The book is divided into five sections namely Nerve, Brain,Blood , Ribs and Breast. Each section leaves you in awe of her magical quill as she describes her struggle with her body, which is heartbreaking and empowering at the same time. I would highly recommend this book to anyone who wants to takes this amazing journey into the pure essence of the womanhood and its struggles.
My rating: Five Stars

2. Quit Your Job and Become a Poet (Out of Spite)

Author: Ms. Georgia Park

Press: FVR Publishing

If there is one word to describe Georgia Park’s writing style, it’s brutally honest-in your face confessional-knock your socks off poetry. Well, I used a lot of words but that’s how would feel once you start reading this book. It’s a ride on a rollercoaster with sudden breaks. Finally, when you pause, you relish the honesty oozing out of her poems. It vacillates between the confession and advice from a big sister. She doesn’t mince her words and her poems resonate the brutally honest truth she faced in real life after relocating from a different country. A dish of complex truth served on a simple alluring dish. Go for it!

Where it can be purchased: Amazon

My rating: Five Stars

3.  We will not be silenced

Editors: Kindra M. Austin, Candice Louisa Daquin, Rachael Finch, and Christine E. Ray

Press: Indie Blu(e) Publishing

We Will Not Be Silenced is a living testament of how the collective voices of survivors can be turned into the roaring declaration of strength, determination, and courage. It is a powerful exposition of how the courage of the survivors can be a shining beacon for those whose voices have gone unheard. There is a lot going between the pages as the survivors have poured their heart out. It indeed is triggering and has to read with utmost care. An anthology which is not only a piece of art but a stark reflection of today’s so-called educated society where women, men, and kids are being harassed and assaulted on a daily basis. It is an excellent attempt by the editors and the courageous contributors of this anthology to spread the power of healing through words of art, poetry, and prose. It’s a must-read for the survivors of the sexual abuse but also by any compassionate human being.

My rating : Five Stars

Where it can be purchased: Amazon

Megha Sood lives in Jersey City, New Jersey. She is a contributing author at GoDogGO Cafe, Candles Online, Free Verse Revolution, Whisper and the Roar, Poets Corner and contributing editor at Ariel Chart.

Her works are published or forthcoming in 521 Magazine #Sideshow, Oddball, Pangolin review, Fourth and Sycamore, KOAN ( Paragon press), Modern Literature, Visual Verse, Vita Brevis, Modern poetry, Dime Show Review, Piker Press and many more. Her poetry has recently been published in the anthology “We will not be silenced” by Indie Blu(e) Publishing and upcoming in four other anthologies by US and Canadian Press.

She recently won the 1st prize in NAMI NJ Dara Axelrod Mental Health Poetry contest. She blogs at


Rebirth – Megha Sood

“A scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived.”
― Chris Cleave, Little Bee


You plucked my wings

feather by feather

pulled it out in pieces

from the blades of my shoulder

You can bloody me all you want

shred me into pieces

and rip them into halves

for everyone to see it.

Your hands sanguine with my

seraphic blood

your soul

deeply encumbered.

But you can’t douse the

eternal flame in me

the one which is burning

and giving me the intensity

the light of my being

my aura,

my personality

these wounds will heal

and scars will be formed

that is how the life sustains

that is how life is born.

Photo by Gaston Roulstone on Unsplash

We Will Not Be Silenced – Launch Tomorrow!

We Will Not Be Silenced: The Lived Experience of Sexual Harassment and Sexual Assault, Told Powerfully Through Poetry, Prose, Essay and Art is in the best seller #1 position for Poetry Anthologies and the #1 New Release in Women’s Poetry on Amazon!

Please, if you have not yet purchased a copy, consider doing so for someone else if not for yourself. You can even purchase to give to a shelter or rape crisis center. We deliberately kept the cost low so most could afford a copy and the message in this incredible anthology would be spread.

We Will Not Be Silenced is going to have the first of several events tomorrow November 30 on Facebook if you are able to attend and whilst there, if you want to join We Will Not Be Silenced on Facebook and the accompanying site, Sisters of Indigo Light

We Will Not Be Silenced is available on Amazon

Elements-Megha Sood

First Published in the Writer’s cafe Magazine Issue 13 -“Elements”


My soul without the love

an empty poem

Stripped of its beauty

with metaphors

but nothing to compare with.


My mind

with it’s tangled thoughts

ricochet between the doubts and the certainty

almost sure of the day

when nothing will begin and everything will end

a journey towards Oblivion.


My skin

devoid of the healing touch and showered with the wet empty kisses

you plant every day on my cheeks

it bears marks of time

sensitive to even the pain

when the time shrugs its shoulder

and the moment end

and my skin still waiting

for that healing touch

fervently to suppress that pain.


My love

a dream too real

conjured out of thin air

like the magic potion

will heal everything

and that magic elixir

will resurrect me from my darkness

of bone and Ash

my love enough to be real

to be felt with my fingertips

and too surreal

so I can feel the pain

when it leaves my body

gently as it glides

to live in the dimension

separate than mine.


My truth

a reality too hard to gulp down

your empty throat

when the reality cuts the dreams

with its serrated ends

and stripped off all its frivolity

it stands here naked


staring and gazing at you

with its bloodshot eyes

when you feel shameful

to hold it’s gaze.


So when the pain sits deep inside my

barren womb

like the dead lilies

knotted and tangled together

like the pain of the stillborn

where time eats time

you try to define

my mind,

my soul,

my skin,

my love,

my truth,

/my elements/

pulling and molding it together

to give it a shape and a form

and you realize

how wrong you were all along.


Photo by Shifaaz shamoon on Unsplash