I write a letter.
Several letters, one for each
Set of eyes that made mine overflow with tears.
One for the teacher
Who castigated me for years.
One for each bully
Who picked on me when I was weaker.
One for the friend
Who let me down in my time of need.
One for the aunty
Who broke down my self esteem.
One for the nameless relative
Who questioned my life choices.
One for the colleague
Who backstabbed me without cause.
One for the lover
Who made me cry every night
I pour my heart into these papers
Hoping it would make me feel lighter.
Telling these people off,
For all the times they hurt me carelessly.
Words spoken, cruelly and hastily.
And I write one final one
For the girl who writes these letters.
One to thank her,
For because of her pain, I became better.
I thank her for being patient
For pulling herself together
For braving through stormy weather.
I am the product of her endeavour
Of her courage, and her fear.
Where would she be
Without these experiences?
They moulded her,
And she moulded me.
I tear up the other letters
And keep just the one
I rise, like a Phoenix
As I watch the other letters burn.
(C) Sneha Pathak