Lying in her off-white bed
wherein words left unsaid,
living in several worlds
wherein none is possibly absurd,
Is my skeletal dear sister.
Breast filled with tumor,
carcinogen bogy greedily consume her.
Killing her softly with destruction. Disruption.
‘ Please, play our child’s play again. Then I am going home’
“But you are home, sis”, I whisper near her ear
trying hard not to show my fear. Of impairment. Of rejection.
‘Look, there is Grandma’ she stares weakly
at the empty ceiling whereon for the last couple of months
she’s been watching serials only she herself can watch.
Suddenly in bliss she smiles
’Its time. Quick, gimme my walking stick – I am released.
Remember, I always love you sis…’
With that, the wind picks her aura up
rattles through her chemotherapied corpus
takes her insane pains. Injured heart. Defeated bulk.
Unjust. Back to dust.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem