THE SECRETS MY NOTEBOOKS HELD

Hands twitched.
Door knob twists.
My Dad peeps in.
Are you studying, he is going to ask.
“Are you studying”, he does.
My face, point blank.
Hands pushing out of sight;
hiding pages of poetry
under notes of Freud’s theory.
“Yes Dad”, I said.
His face, happy
let me be in my room
lost in a world different from his;
little did I know.

Hands twitched.
Door knob twists.
My mom peeps in.
You better be studying, she is going to say.
“You better be studying”, she does.
My hands, prepared for this
swap out pages of comics
with figures of electronics.
“Yes Ma”, I said.
Her face, desperate to check
let me be in my room
lost in a world different from hers.

Hands twitched.
Door knob twists.
I enter my room;
years later.
Books stacked
just as in memory.
I trace the steps
to my table of secrets.
A textbook, I flip.
Out flows my comics, my poetry.
My dreams and words
mock at me now.

Hands twitched.
Door knob twists.
My father peeps over my shoulders.
Now I get it! Your failures and marks;
he is going to say.
“Your Mom, a fool.
Me; knew your poetry.
Me; knew your stories.
The door never fully closed,
my eyes moved with the words you wrote,
the pictures you drew”, he says.
Our eyes filled with tears
fought back dreams since years.
I piled my stories and poetry
right along with his
where it lies to date;
awaiting its fate.

 

~ Freida

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s