Submissions open for Wingword Poetry Prize 2020

Nature of everything

Ayushi Sharma

I don't want to go home anymore. Doesn’t matter in past how much had I yearned for my abode.
I disregard The number of sleepless nights when I longed for my beloved home.

Even the reminisce of the my loneliness and I whispering in each other's ears as we stood in the kingdom of remote,
Inhabited by evil monsters disguised as fragile angels, flashes before my eyes, still I choose not to return my home.

Because the walls of every house yells a story untold.
From the secrets kept from the children to the drops of tears scattered around the feet’s of the stoical soul.

Come with me I will tell you the nature of universe,
Let me first tell you the events unfolding down the course

“Brothers and sisters who have spent their childhood together
Are soon going to become strangers.

Sons who have listened to their parents’ advice up till now
Will be prudent enough to direct orders upon them to hear him out.

Daughters will be sent to kingdoms distant,
And will glance at her castle with blurry eyes and heavy heart.

Soon she would need to draw her shield out as the strokes of expectations and sacrifices will be hurled at her
And the sword that she carried with her will be lost forever

Years after this, her little girl will fall in love with this home
She will wistfully remember it, like the voyager misses the shore.

And years later the little girl will find out the rusted sword
Which will tell her the unsung stories from the book once closed

It is she who will realize the nature of everything
And she’ll name it temporary.

Nothing remains the same,
The home she owned
The pride she donned

The roads which she traversed holding the hands of her brother
The times she wept in the arms of her mother
The feel of the shirt on her cheek, while she slept holding her father

All of this will go, like the withered leaves of the trees in snow
And she will learn to live her life without love
Yet she will rise again and will shine and smile
But for now she’ll just sit and weep for a while,

She’ll picture her mom smiling- a sad smile, and she’ll wonder,
BOOM!! realization will struck her reality like a thunder
That her mother has lost so much, in order to give her this home
The memories of whose she have given the biggest room in her heart’s dorm.”

Now I am picturing myself standing in the crowd of face changing men
And as I'll pick up the mirror, I stare at it for a bit longer trying to summon
Why doesn't the silhouette looks familiar.


And I’ll sign “Everybody is the sinner”.
Not my dad but maybe my mother's husband.
Not my grandmother but maybe my mother's mother.
And I guess I am no longer the victim.


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