Photo by Landon Parenteau on Unsplash
The end of May feels more like
the peak of summer--
heat, humidity, haze, blinding light--
reminding me of that very hot day long long ago.
In such a delirious temperature,
even stones were hot,
but you were so cold, as usual.
A life of inescapable chores,
an unhelpful husband,
a marriage with no exit,
has soured your spirit for years.
Your headache, insomnia, indigestion
were your endless concerns.
Visiting doctors was your favorite pastime.
Your face turned severe
when you spoke to me, in your didactic tone.
Your voice became animated,
only when you complained about my father.
Whatever you had to say, I pretended to listen,
but I didn't care.
I was not going to avenge your disappointment
or continue your unfulfilled dream.
Whatever life is--venom or acid or insipidity--
I want a cup of my own.
Actually what I definitely don't want
is becoming a person like you.
I know you've suffered a lot--
having a career is not easy,
having a man but not enjoying serving him is also tough,
having children only out of social pressure is frustrating.
However don't let your bitterness
burns my heart and kills my feelings.