The Essence Left Behind

That night, the hospital made me see,

A white wheelchair, with a body crippled,

The body reddened with scarlet marks,

Yet, a victorious grin on the white lips,

I saw a little girl.

Who are you, little fairy?

Your eyes, like glimmering mirrors, find peace

As they reflect me crouching before you,

She lifted her frail hand and rested it,

On my bony chest, whispering “this…”.

It seemed like life gave her lots of gifts,

Of violence, betrayal and chaos,

Oh dear, but why with this poor soul?

What courage did she lack in this hard world?

“Entirely…”, whimpered the feeble voice.

To my eyes, the scars felt familiar,

The voice, soft to my matured ears,

The skin, familiar to mine, once,

And the broken heart, a reflection of my own,

The brown curls, that too were mine.

I felt the thread pulling us closer,

The hug I gave, reminded me of those,

Which my mother used to give to comfort me,

When I was torn like a dead flower,

And thrown away…

Gently I elevated her with my hands,

And she faintly rested her head on my neck,

She smiled and whispered, “You won”,

She looked hopefully and raised her hand,

Pointing at the clearest mirror in the corridor.

She wanted me to go there,

I stepped forward, with the light body,

Embraced in my hand, she said, “see…”,

I stepped forward, stopped and stared,

What I saw was only me.