Thoughts.

By Dr Varshini

Like a cricket that dominates the calmness of the night, her thoughts screamed even in deafening silence 

She folded them into tiny notes and buried them into the sulci of her brain but they floated out at night like a body thrown into the river

The ghastly smell. The maggot infested. The dismantled parts. 

They always managed to come back

The birds sang about her pain. They watched her tears seep into cotton pillows like a thirsty child

She wore her trauma like a heavy locket on a limb

Carrying it wherever she goes

She tried to throw it away into the deepest waters, into rubbles and mountains, into deep trenches, into alcohol and intoxicating drugs

But it always came back.

Seeking its way back to her 

Each night she sprawled across the bed, slid the bolts on the door 

Alone and double locked

Sat in the dark, as dark as it was in her head.

But with each sun rise, the darkness had to go

Sun seeped its way and cast tall shadows.

Figures. Slender. In forms and shapes.

She broke out of her cocoon after suffering the agony of being a caterpillar

Blue. Glittery. Unique. Spotted. Free and Beautiful

Each day she shape-shifted from a caterpillar to butterfly

Sometimes pink, sometimes red or violet.

Each day going through the metamorphosis

Some days gently. Some days violently. 

But every night she knew that she’d be a butterfly the next day.

And it kept her going.

And going.

By Dr Varshini