I open my eyes every morning to my mother's voice talking to me like the moon talks about stars. Her voice tricky and homely at the same time. The sleep in my mind instantly clashing against the light coming from the window, my mom just pulled the curtain from. I sit down, on some days, shout at her too. She replies to my scream by bringing me a glass of warm water to my table. Our conversation ends there almost immediately, mine from guilt and hers from non-chalance.
I watch my mother everyday carrying nothing but a charm of her own, amidst hundreds of fault my family layers upon her and her existence. When we talk, we talk about everything. The 'everything' which churns my heart into another phase of reality. She talks about how her heart was burnt continuously until the pieces transformed into sharp shards of pain. She tells me about her tears, how dried up they are from crying everynight since she became a woman. Her silence makes me wonder when was the last time she smiled from her heart. The ignorance led me to the blue I never felt till eternity.
Here is a sonnet from my mother's point of view:
//The blazing sun runs back and ahead, With a fear avoided of burning in agape. I ask you O' sun, how did I end up in the shed Being devoid of your rays they scrape? Why do I need to gulp my vehemence And starve from kindness in the dark While each of my neighbour spit hatred in salience? My father etched in my heart, a mark, Parallel to the skies and bondings they art I walk by the fine line of love in my soul My mind stronger than stars, shattered is my heart. I bathe alongside the cursed rivers of foul Which took away my dreams in a pace. Home gone, life gone, all I live for is my children's brace.//
"Go", says the voice on the other side of the creaking door and my heart knows only one of us can be saved, maybe the gods have written it such that only one of us will be saved so I bolt towards the blinding light, leaving your footsteps to fade away in the dark.
A decade has passed and your face is a memory seared into the outer edges of my weary skin, your voice a song that I forget, yet it floats at the tip of my tongue your life a pawn I traded for a month of freedom and a lifetime of nightmares.