We crossed that bridge as five
but only mother and I survived.
Your father and brothers will be back, she wiped her tears and said.
I know this was a lie, for her eyes flickered with remorse and dread
In a fleeting moment,
my identity changed from a boy to what they called a refugee.
Mother said it meant we were people with no guarantees.
No guarantee to shelter, food or drink.
no guarantee to life or new beginnings.
Can we go back? I pleaded.
Back to where? she snapped.
The bridge is broken, our home is gone.
What’s left is us and us alone.
Then in an attempt to mend my bereaved soul, she hugged me tight,
and once again lied,
I will always be by your side.
Pallavi writes on a myriad of issues pertaining to motherhood and womanhood. The topics that especially tickle her fancy are the ones that are occasionally thrown under the rug or tell an engaging story. Some of her writings have been published in Go Dog Go Cafe, Whisper and Roar and Free Verse Revolution. You can read more on her blog - Curating Thoughts.