The Mirror
My bedroom mirror suddenly broke open tonight
I stared at it aghast; it spilled all my past
Images rolled on- how I fought with my young sister
In our childhood; how I hated her for being my parents’ darling
A dilapidated doll, its head severed
The incessant teardrops of her- how I felt an inner elation
Images again; I grabbed the innocent lover-boy by his neck
Fists and punches – his blood-stained stare
I liked it, because he dared to love my teenaged sister
I was in my teens too, and secretly made passes at some of her friends
But my sister having a boyfriend- that was different
A slashed wrist, a gaping face; two writhing bodies of my parents
A prosaic funeral, a teenage girl laid inside the ground
Has she ever found peace? I am not sure
Being her brother I must have done the right thing
31.08.2014
Copyright © Prasenjit Banerjee | Year Posted 2014
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