Varsha Patel

Pent up force to rearrange whole beaches.
Raging shock waves, heaving and rolling.
A delicate neck stem, holding onto my brain.  
An amniotic safe seclusion.
Carole Pearce

My Spirit Resuscitates

“You’re so fat and clumsy!
Why can’t you be more like your cousins?
You know, I dreamt of having a baby girl I could dress up in pretty clothes-
Instead I got you.”
Waves of words crushing me.
No Love. No Acceptance. Just Judgement. Just Criticism.
A Mirror of Her Own Inadequacies.
Until all that’s left in me is –
a pent up force to rearrange whole beaches.

“You speak in such funny accent!
Just like a Whitie!”
“Why do you eat such funny food?
My mommy says that Indians are brown because they don’t bath.”
At home – Hare Krishna Hare Rama, Rama Rama Hare Hare.
At school- In the name of the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit, Amen.
Too Indian for School. Too White for Home. No place for me.
No Love. No Acceptance. Just Judgment. Just Criticism.
What do you want from me!?!
Raging shock waves, heaving and rolling!

I was tossed around by the angry, raging ocean that was my world.
A Child. Small. Fragile. Innocent. Confused.
“What’s wrong with me?
Why doesn’t anyone like me?”
I kept asking- until my own voice convinces me, telling me their lies:
“I’m so fat and clumsy.
I wish I was more like my cousins.
Maybe if I changed, they will love me.”

Battered. Broken. Beaten.
All that’s left is a delicate neck stem, holding onto my brain.  

Battered. Broken. Beaten. Faint. Soft.
My Spirit Resuscitates.
Like Water, you cannot break Spirit.
A primitive life force grows it strong.
Ready to battle the raging waves of the world, of the self.
“Stop the lies! I am alive again!” This new voice screams out.
“I am! I am!
I am no more A Mirror of Their Inadequacies!
I am.”
I find an amniotic safe seclusion.  

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