Affected by his warmth,
She opened her heart
Laid her burdens at his paternal feet
She spoke of her brutal callousness,
Of a mother’s selfish heart,
Of her arduous journey
Of the thousand deaths her flesh endured
About her heart that became porous and brittle,
As she returned to the folds of humanity.
She dwelt at length on her dying sister’s wish
Of the sacred promise she carelessly broke,
Time and time again without thought or care.
‘This is why I cannot die’ she bemoaned,
‘How will I look at my sister’s soul?
What would I say, when she asks of her little girl?
What would I say, when she asks what became of her priceless treasure?’
‘I can suffer many painful deaths,
Than look in the eye of my sister’s mute soul
And see my sins, mirrored in her afflicted visage.’
‘I ask not for forgiveness, I ask not for redemption,
All I want to know is what became of my dearest niece?
Did she ever find a home?
Was she ever loved?’
Her voice trailed in a wispy whimper,
Her eyes drowned in a pool of sorrow.
– Lekha Murali