Anadika Mishra
My name is Anadika Mishra, a high schooler in the Bay Area, and writing has always been the way I make sense of what I feel. Through poems, often quiet and maybe a little sad, I try to give shape to emotions that don’t always have names. Each piece I write is a small reflection of myself, a way to speak when I don’t know how else to. Poetry lets me be heard, even in silence. I hope you find comfort in the poems that brought the same to me.
the dim house
i was born in a house
with dim lights.
not broken, just tired,
flickering like they were afraid
to be seen too clearly.
the walls were quiet,
and no one ever explained
what the silence meant.
so i learned not to ask
why the windows stayed shut,
why the air always felt
a little too still.
some rooms were colder than others.
some had locked doors
i was told not to open.
i listened.
i played on creaking floors,
and learned to step lightly,
to not disturb
whatever sadness slept
in the corners.
sometimes,
i’d press my face
to the dusty glass,
and wonder if other houses
felt warmer.
if they had music
or soft arms waiting
on the stairs.
but i never left.
never knew how.
i hung paintings of smiles
on peeling walls,
made beds with heavy blankets,
and told myself
this was comfort.
because when you grow up
in a dim house,
you forget what sunlight feels like.
you forget you were ever supposed to want it.
and i don’t know if i’d recognize
the front door
if it opened.
