By Siya Sawhney
We are not a war family
We have not seen the ground collapse in front of us,
We have been privileged enough
To not have the taste of hunger
Linger at the tip of our tongues,
We have been so fortunate
For our walls to not crumble in,
For our ceiling to not cave in,
For our home to shelter, not shatter.
Yet, my mom’s walk from the kitchen to the dining table
Always feels like a battle on thin ice,
Every conversation with my dad
Is an attempt for him
To hide,
Hide from the enemy,
Hide from someone
Who knows his tactical plans, his strategical depths.
We are not a war family,
We do not crave destruction and intrusion,
Then why does my brother
Force me to break through his façade,
His barriers, his surrounding fence,
Searching for something authentic, something genuine.
Why is it that
Lying on my bed,
Makes me feel so empty,
As if nothing is left inside of me,
As if I have already given all that I had to give,
As if I’m lying on the battleground
With the world stepping over,
Leaving me
behind.