creative submissions

Volume 20 - Issue 1

LOATHE

by Naisargi Mehta

I could not tell if it was the sea,
the sky or myself
that reflected one another.
And who would it be, the one to suffer? All I was sure of was the downfall But who was falling?
Was it me? Or was it the globe?
All I was sure of was the collision; But of all the things that I
had braced myself for
Boy I was not ready, at all, for
A mirror.
I loathed the path now
I loathed the destination;
I loathed the fact that all I could possibly loathe now was –
My reflection.