Glass lips

Sreetama Mohor Das

they said they had an unknown body,

things blinked and flushed like a parody.

my sister’s been missing for days now.

there were no reports of her…

no answers…no events no news.

everyday i anxiously anticipated their stupid reviews.

then they called and brought me here.

and  there i stood, afraid to face my greatest fear.

a man pulled out a drawer from cell one zero two.

the room was dark, cold … eeriely blue.

she bore a striking resemblance to my sister.

the eyes and brows..the mark of the blister.

eyes were getting heavy, i was losing sight of her.

her fair body wrapped in white…

that was my sister…

i asked them to flip the body as i clenched my fist.

i felt my heart being ransacked by a beast.

they flipped her and she lay on her back.

“No”, I said…”she’s not her…”

no birthmark in black.

My fist loosened, eyes felt sore, red with tears in them.

but she was not whom i claim.


they began pushing her back into her cell;

the rust from the draw-cell had left a trail…

a trail to prove that she’s not known

and morns and nights have flown

away leaving her anonymous.

i caught the last glimpse of her worn out face.

indeed a beautiful lady by God’s grace.

more like me will come…

see her face, match the features close

with their dear ones gone.

but none will match with her again

and her ‘short’ errand would be in vain.


her lips were brittle again

tightly bound to each other in pain.

as though they’d shatter into a milllion pieces-

a million pieces i implore…

they’d shatter…

if they were to utter a word more.


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