The last dusk- Muskan Bhupesh

Glancing to the ceiling;

Next to the window,

half past noon;

Still in sheets.

Swaying, eyes to brain

back and forth again

in the beauty of naked silence resilient

Piling off the bed

in blues, with cracking beeps outside.

I stormed past the room

to the main door

digging the peep hole deep.

Prompting, my curtain drawn past

now seemed teary.

Running back to the room

I arrayed down, hiding my tissues within.

Unlatched my cosy live-in

prior the next wild knock planting.

In dimmed smile, ‘Namaste Dadaji’

escaped my lips.

Bowing down to his feet

I took my share of blessings.

Two familiar figures

with smirking face

infiltrated in bereft space of my shielding.

Defensive; My mum’s voice

pulled strings

all behind.

‘Uncle bhi aaye h’, demanding the welcome

to be refined.

Exchanging our gazes

I snapped down on floor sheets.

My gauged heart I stitched for years

felt the unease

Obliged to touch his feet,

My innocence, caged in resentment

Wondering, if this brush was enough

to recollect his past thunder-

the dusk; the sorry faces;

scent of grandma’s cremating remains

The endless faith taking me

to follow him blindfolded

Hastily, falling in a sea of nowhere

Waxed and probed with his filth hands

quenching his thirst

Sniffing clothes inside.

Panicked to save the physical me

leaving in lurch, how all terrified.

My flooded heart and weeping soul

so far I betrayed

Concealing back his gruesome sins

luring my world at stake

Suffocating inside, zipped lipped

alone for all these cold nude nights.

Wishing to ask him;

by all this, if he was satisfied-

Now getting back on my spine

I walked out of the room

With scratched old scars,

overfilled heart

finally clogging the aisle

to my lost elegant shine.