He left me with these last words,
“You just can’t do adulting alright.”
Divide your time like a brownie between siblings
Meticulous halves, between work and life.
How could I put it in words
That writing is not a shop you close
My work was not to serve anyone
But hold my fragile sanity in place.
I looked at the anatomy of my reflection
Staring back at me from beyond the mirror
And I was certain about one thing
Love happens only when
We are unafraid of making errors.
Mother reminded for the umpteenth time
“Fold your clothes, arrange your desk
You have grown up enough
To do your work without my prompts!”
I know, I know I am twenty-two
A century ago, I would be the mother of two.
But I am just a girl still figuring out
Her many identities, a stable spot
To stand and rest, in a world of chaos.
I look at myself in the mirror
At night while making braids with my hair
The contours of my body
Rising and falling, darkness beneath my eyes
From staring at the laptop.
I see a being still becoming, that too
Not in a linear fashion
Drawing parts, erasing some
And then again holding the pencil aslant.
They always want you to be
Just one person, a good lover
Or an ideal daughter, symmetrical.
Can you see concentric circles
When they are of the same radius?
It is never a matter of easy negotiation
Two parts flour, one part sugar, a pinch of salt
Some days you need the whole brownie,
Don’t let them tell it is your fault.
DP. 19/04/2023
Catharsis 