Copyright (c) Mohan Nair, 2016
Copyright (c) Mohan Nair, 2016

Slighted
And worn, my child,
Devoid of comfort. Her
Make, so bothersome, riled ’em all.
I’d made
Her so.
I’d swathed her in
Trials, inevitable
Obtrusions. Alas! she joined the
Lot; sat
With my
Failures of the
Last time and those before.
With such precision and care, I’d
Contoured.
Painted
In peculiar
Hues, adorned in jewels,
My baby outshone the last, but
Her light
Was to
Be dimmed by the
Blurry eyed. They sought her
Light for themselves. But unable,
Killed her.
And there
My craft left me.
I wandered in search of
Refreshing art, only to be
Beckoned
By my
Children. You see,
Nothing remains undone.
We come full circle, wherever
We go.

– Meera

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