by Snigdha Garud
Safe shroud:
each broken child is ensconced in
crystalline tears. Precipitation
coalesces into cool bathwater; those soft
droplets cleanse deep punctures.
“Cause of injury: self-harm”
pre-mortem reveals.
Foliage dresses each bleeding
heart, crosshatching over
raging wounds with scars.
Careful, a gentle breeze
whispers; each leaf stills, pausing
in anticipation.
Overhead, the sky slowly changes,
volatile lightening slicing a
white cloud apart. Within minutes,
self-destruction spews hail, thunder
booming across a loathing landscape.
In the paradoxical mind, it is a
war against hurt, for hurt.
Even as the wind sends hailstones
skittering across the brain, it keeps bringing
more and more and more—
smothering shroud.
Snigdha Garud is an Indian-American writer. A current high school senior from Pennsylvania, she enjoys watching sunrises, sunsets, and everything in between. Previously, Snigdha’s work has appeared in Blue Marble Review and TigersZine. She can be found on Twitter @coniferousyeti.
