March 8, 2014
Asked to define love,
I will lead you
down the hall,
to the left
where my mother stands
with a burdened chest

Asked to define insanity
I will take you
up the stairwell of isolation
into the intricate corridors
of broken hearts
in desperation

Asked to define happiness
I will guide you
to sweet melodies
of my bhena’s* laughter, of my father’s voice
more blissful
than any remedies

But asked to define myself
I know not where to lead
I know not where to follow
I see a blank page;
a glossary
Desolate and hollowed

*bhena: sister

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