Catharsis

#in memory of the deceased children of the brutal Peshawar attack.

I see a little girl, draped in white.

Dark mane swaddling an angelic visage,

warm like the summer sky.

Red Cheeks. Wide eyes.

I question.

What does she see?

Puppies fight? A toddler’s game?

Twinkling stars? Falling rain?

Or her mother, acting silly?

Her dreams. Her happiness.

Her dreams. Her doppelganger.

I look at her, the girl in the frame;

at the sister who barely lived.

The sister whom I barely held.

Shreshtha Chakraborty

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