Poetry

Consternation

Her eyes scan the bare floor beneath their feet; dark bangs shielding them from him,

Her hands clutch her torn skirt like a lifeline,

Gashes of a nauseating red over her open torso, her limbs twisted in an odd angle,

Gone are the days of her flawless beauty, of her skin soaked in sublime.

 

His eyes are shut forcefully; his body swaying weakly,

Resolve leaves his frame like a snap of a twig as defeat takes root,

For the first time in the twelve hours that she was gone; he lets himself think,

He doesn’t want to fall this helplessness; he just wants rage for that brute.

 

But, oh, the mind, no one’s slave,

As images of her agony burn through his intellect, sear his soul,

He feels something crumbling inside him, falling from his stomach,

A thousand tiny little fragments of that one part man keeps guarded for so long.

 

She tries to meet his eyes, she wants to so badly stare into the pools of brown,

She tries to open her mouth to call him; but she is so afraid,

All that is left to come out from inside her is a broken cry,

She lowers her eyes further, her throat hurting at the thought of his face, and in them, the dismay.

 

She knows any of this isn’t her fault, trust her, she knows that,

She knows it’s the big man’s fault, the one who grabbed her in that dark road,

She knows it’s what was written in her destiny; she knows that too,

Yet there is that nestle of self-hatred growing inside her; yet she feels like an incendiary, waiting to explode.

 

He steps towards her slowly, his chest tightening when she flinches,

Why won’t she meet his eyes, he wonders,

Is she scared of him? Maybe she is,

He blinks away the tears long gathered in his eyes, as the courage he had so painfully mustered; once again, flounders.

 

His daughter, his little girl, the apple of his eye,

The one who held his finger from her cradle; the one who sat on his lap for a story,

The one who admonished him as she grew older,

The one who wasn’t supposed to be here, in this condition, his little fiore.

 

She shudders as he comes closer, the clot of nerves in her throat growing,

She hopes he would understand, but then why would he?

She wishes the tremors didn’t run through her body; she wished she had more courage,

She wants to scream; she wants to shout; she doesn’t want anyone’s pity.

 

He stands in front of her now,

His jeans faded and his shirt creased with frays,

It’s the same one he was wearing when she saw him last,

The thought hits her like a hurricane; as she realizes the chasm between them over just a period of half a day.

 

She sits still as a doll, waiting for him,

He stands like a stone, waiting too,

They both feel the vigil, feel all that seem to be better left unsaid,

Both of them no longer the same people, no longer the each other they knew.

 

She slowly raises her eyes to his chest, unable to go any further,

And maybe he understands that, for he too bends lower,

His knees scrape against the marble as he drops down,

Finally, finally, it was their eyes which met, in a haze of anguish, in the heat of fire.

 

He chokes out some words undecipherable,

As she tries to say all the things she wanted to,

He reaches for her arms and for her part, she goes willingly,

Wanting to smell his scent, suddenly desperate to hold him too.

 

Everything pours out in sounds rather then words,

As they clutch each other feverishly; her battered body and his hair unkept,

United in her suffering and his grief; her plight and his understanding; her trauma and his contusion,

Everything blurs together, as after the longest separation, finally, father and daughter seek solace and relief, as they held each other through and weep.

 

                                                                   ~Anantinee Mishra

                                                                       New Delhi, India

Incident in question: A young girl kidnapped and held hostage for twelve hours, comes face to face with her father for the first time after being rescued. Trigger Warnings: Trauma, Unspecified Abuse.

5 Comments

  1. Concluding on a positive note, absence increases love distance adds to it.

    The poetess has abundance in her platter to share with the world.

    God Bless

  2. This is a tragedy story presented by our little teen who always needs positivity in actions.But her stretch of imagination is strong, while reading tears rolled on my cheeks. Use of such healthy words made me to ga through this long poetry two times.May God shower Blessing to Anantinee.

  3. J N Padhy यज्ञ नारायण पाढ़ी । Gurugram.

    So emotionally put forth the words the bonding of a daughter . I wish the author Anantinee all the best.

  4. Meaningful theme and noble concept driven presentation are the icing on the cake . Liked it immensely. Keep up such good works & infact, inching towards perfection but sky is the limit. All the very best.

  5. So meaningful…..