Trail of Broken Wings

by Sejal Badani

Each image serves as a reminder that a light shines through so many people, and yet, no matter how far I run, I cannot seem to escape my shadow.

When she refused to cry, she told herself it was for them. To show them that strength was the better option. Now, as an adult, when her face remains dry, void of tears, she accepts that the cause is her inability to feel.

A fugitive is never free. Though he lies unconscious in a coma, miles away, his memory still smothers the air she breathes. Part of her knows it always will.

I want to explain to her that loneliness isn’t remedied by people around me, that my loneliness is an integral part of me.

“Feel the blood? That is the same blood that is in me, in your mother, in Sonya masi, in Trisha masi. So whatever you do, whatever happens to you, it affects all of us, because you have our blood.”

“Your mother and her sisters came from my womb and you came from your mother’s. You are ours, my darling.”

Another loss from never having learned how to win.