Winter is the serpent that caressed
My hope and decapitated my dreams.
I anticipated its arrival regardless,
Because despite the agony it entails
It makes it easier to hide the mess.
Underneath the double, triple layers
Of sweaters no one knitted for me
And the canvas jackets that hang aimlessly,
I carry the palpability of pain.
The scars become evident the next day
And the blade digs deeper the same night.
The grip around my neck solidifies
As I prepare to go into the night.
Yet, in the morning I whisper these words,
“Time doesn’t control me, I control time.”
But as winter morphs into summer
And the layers have to be surrendered,
All the bruises and all the scars
Will become my definition as they tear me asunder.
And when they offer me comfort
I’ll simply deny the truth.
They will never be able to comprehend why
Solidarity can be the greatest solitude.
Re-entering my chamber of self-inflicted pain,
I finally latched every single door shut.
I ponder over every victim of my affliction
Just waiting for the final cut.
– Rubani Kaur
Artwork Credit: Unknown