dried leaves rustle like fading nightmares, an urge to suck in colors before me
I lay on the ground, my body cold As I can feel my soul lose its hold I try to get up, but fall Useless Defeated I let my soul loosen its grip
You taught me that there is good and bad in this God awful place. But now you’re gone Now all can I see is darkness
like a light, little leaf fallen on the dust to kiss it life, or like a gust of wind meant to blow it away from me
I am dream-bound to the weeping mother of an ocean shore, my shadow is darker than the prose tree of mind and desire a prospect of inner lunacy and death;
I turn and proceed to the next one, a small two-story house on the corner. The rich forest-green walls are caked with grimy mud at the bottom. I move forward dexterously, and soon I am through the door, my gun held up in front of me. “Team 294 present. By the New Law, you must show yourself,” I recite, scanning the room for signs of life.
I’m like a thread, frayed at the end. Broken, because I lost a trusted friend.
Female infanticide. The deliberate killing of newborn female children is a serious problem in India… This is a letter in a form of poetry from a girl who was killed and thrown in a trashcan by her parents. A letter written from a girl who was thrown into a trashcan –
I reflect as I view the past:
Forever have I held my tongue,
O’er fear I shall attack you,
Rather than confront the past.