Who am I?

Am I the heartbroken dame standing by the window

Trying to catch a final glimpse of her lover before

He goes out to the war? Or the rebel lady

In denims and boots, puffing away the cares of

The world, wearing a mask of nonchalance,

Concealing the hurt of her heart?

Perhaps I am the little child playing at the curb,

Oblivious of the sin of Adam, whose burden his kind

Still bears. Surely, I am not the reflection I see

In the mirror. The reflection is tainted. I deny it.

 

I think I know who I am.

Weaver of words, creating beautiful patterns on paper,

Using the pen as my agent, celebrating the tales

Of life.

 

Did you like my tapestry?

 

________________________________________________________________

Shefali Banerji

http://www.instagram.com/weaving_poetry

Image Source: Internet

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