In The Labyrinth Of My Mind

Nor marble, nor the gilded monuments, can outlive the wrath of Time

But dear Bard, what of this failing body of mine?

Soon my corpse will make a new addition to your list,

When the blood will stop its thumping against my wrist

I’ve run out of time, or perhaps time has run out of patience with me

Maybe this slow death is penance before I’m set free.

These seven decades of sins rendering my heart weaker,

Each organ which fails me, an oblation to the grim reaper

My mind is now an ever-shifting labyrinth, a fractured mirror

My conscience, a puppet, thrown around in these fields of horror

This maze of memories taunts me with glimpses of the life I have had.

A little girl, in a time when being one wasn’t something to be glad

My destiny was decided the day I was born,

My greatest accomplishment would be the vermilion I would adorn

I embraced the walls that were put around me, making them my home,

I obeyed father, caging my treacherous heart that yearned to roam

Traditions and duties were thrusted upon my young shoulder,

Replacing the warmth of my juvenile naivety with something colder.

I have blindly adhered to the rules set before me

I’m now a wife to a stranger, and a mother of three

A boy, and a girl, both replicas of their father

But my youngest child is like no other

My sweet boy has a light in his heart, and hope in his eyes

His mission to make his father laugh, a failed conquest no matter how hard he tries

This sweet child of mine is now nothing more than a memory.

One I seek in this taunting labyrinth of my mind readily

The maze lies, dear Bard ! I had gazed upon my child this very morn

I remember his salt and pepper beard, and the blue shirt he’d worn

He has kids of his own now- a boy and a girl

He laughs with the boy, and lifts the girl in a twirl

My granddaughter is forever running by his side,

Even her crazy theories interest him, his eyes beam with pride

What had this little girl accomplished to be loved so deeply!

My father’s only gift to me was dowry, I ponder bleakly.

My sweet child thinks his daughter to be his comrade, his equal

Not many a decision in his life are made without her naive counsel

He has made her formidable, someone who could stand tall

So even without his support, she stood while all I could do was fall!

She stood against a tide of men, eyes full of tears but shoulders set in a brace

She carried the weight of my sweet child, while I couldn’t even look at his pale face

Unlike this girl, I don’t break traditions ; my spine has never been so strong

I had let my husband paint me in bruises, because defiance would be wrong.

Even as I lay on my deathbed, I still comply and I still obey

The stranger I married will decide whether on this dim eve I’ll leave or stay.

My dear Bard, see how this cunning labyrinth has tricked me with lies again!

Nevermind that now, my sweet child promised to watch cricket with me at ten