I am the first child, who has palace in heart
made of questions, unanswered,
I am the first child, whose favourite pastime is
I am the first child, who is rebellious,
Do children in harsh households
whose walls are not filled with world maps glow
like the sky after a heavy shower?
Do people call flowers that
grow in graveyards and cemeteries as ‘beautiful’?
Do potters crave their lost lover’s name in the pot?
What do people do with apologies-
Forgive or forget forcefully ?
I am the first child,
when it rains i don’t let it wash only the dirt off,
also the sins of my birth,
when i pray knee-folded on the block printed cloth,
i think about the nights i cried to put myself sleep,
i think about the days full of nightmares,
when i see people say my name, i hear them spelling
and reading it as ‘grief’ decorated with
colourful cellophane sheets.
when i cleanse face i let kajal deposit in eyes,
artificial moons, for them to gaze,
I am the first child, who grew up loving absence,
falling in love with ignorance,
I am the first child, whose love language is sacrifice.
I am the first child, a rejected hypothesis.
How have y’all been doing? Feels great to post here after months :))