top of page

The Beneficiaries

You died too young to split yourself into a will and yet we tore you apart enough to have to share

You left Baba a few stacks of guilt and a plethora of memories to sift through before he learns they’re empty

You left Amma a hundred ounces of fear stirred in with love that she uses as a measuring stick to justify how nothing compares

You left our only sister unshielded from the dark, a dash of perseverance to make up for stealing all her hope

I inherited your mask for we have the same face – a curse to remind me I can never leave you the way you left me

Clutching gifts like Christmas Eve has dawned but the socks don’t fit, we sit every night with our inherited share and bargain with God for a better exchange knowing perfectly well we got exactly what we asked for.


“You may wear my face, but its colored in with you – You’re better off already.”


Post: Blog2_Post
bottom of page