Decorated Little Fool

By Prosari Chanda

She be a wreck,

drowning in her own storm

adrift in unspoken ache

she be torn

between love that divides her

between loyalties 

that wound.

She be searching her soul

in the grave

where her vanity lies buried

oozing memories.

She be glaring at the sky

talking to her reflection 

in a broken mirror

fighting demons that wear her name.

She be gathering bones of her face

to meet the world again.

Smelling the smoke of doom and

resonating to a blunt silence—

that beats louder than her pulse.

She be a decorated little fool,

her unseen wings holding her might.

She be you!

the seeker,

redeemer,

she who waits to cease her day—

to name her light.

By Prosari Chanda