Here LiesDahlia

Poetry that sees what often goes unspoken.

Enter the Collection

Some flowers bloom in gardens.
Others bloom over graves.

Every grief leaves a monument — some of stone, others of words.

Why Read This Book

Grief, Given Language

A Journey Through Healing

Eighty-seven poems that honestly explore grief, identity, loss, acceptance, and the courage to rebuild yourself.

Emotionally Honest & Beautifully Written

Through vivid imagery and evocative metaphors, each poem captures feelings that are hard to express but deeply familiar.

III

A Companion for Quiet Moments

Whether you’re healing, reflecting, or searching for words that understand you, this collection offers comfort through connection.

About the Author

Writing What the Heart Cannot Speak

Harshita Mehta, writing under the pen name Irahi, is a poet whose work explores the quieter, heavier corners of human emotion — the feelings we carry in silence and struggle to express aloud.

Holding a Master’s degree in English Literature, she has always been fascinated by the complexity of grief, identity, longing, and emotional transformation. Her writing is marked by lyrical honesty, dramatic metaphors, and a gentle curiosity about the questions that linger long after conversations end.

Beyond writing, Harshita is also a painter, often turning to colour and canvas when words refuse to cooperate.

“

I wrote these poems for the versions of ourselves we quietly leave behind — the ones we outgrow, mourn, hide, or forget. If these words make you feel a little less alone, then Dahlia has found another home.

— Harshita Mehta (Irahi)

About the Book

Here Lies Dahlia

A collection for every version of yourself you’ve had to leave behind.

What does grief look like when the person you’ve lost is yourself? Here Lies Dahlia gathers eighty-seven poems that trace the emotional journey of becoming someone you never expected to be.

Rather than offering easy answers or forced optimism, it makes space for emotions too often ignored, hidden, or dismissed. These poems do not attempt to fix pain — they simply sit beside it.

The Pilgrimage