3
Prose
Pieces
Khushboo Mattoo
We are conditioned to believe that everytime we fall, we have got to get up and gather ourselves together and move on. But what happens when we just fall and break and scatter because of the storm in our lives. The wind is so strong that every piece flies away to distant corners, one piece not knowing of the other. How go we gather then? What do we gather then? How many times we go search for the remnants to our soul and shout at them to get up. And the pieces are tired. They're tired of breaking and gluing together, more so at the corners, rough and chipped. The fragments are more scared than motivated. More tired than inspired.
Who said giving up was easier? Who has all the glue. And what do you do about the pieces lost forever. How long can hollow legs stand?