Reflection

It hurts, unborn Aaron,

the visiting days,

and all the others too—

sitting in the courtyard,

waiting for no one.

Hope has departed—

one-way ticket,

no return.

The elders are gone,

my siblings have forgotten me.

Everyone does, when you fall.

Vile Polynices, we are outcasts!

What news is that?

Prisoners always are,

hypocritical society!

She is happy in other arms,

she has forgotten me already,

and the promises of endless love—

no doubt about it.

Condemned to ostracism,

many believe

I am a dead tree in Tartarus,

denied even the droppings

by birds and rats alike.

Yet,

I stand,

I refuse to yield.

I breathe.

I refuse to die.

The sun still shines in my window.

Aphasia has extended a hand to me,

and I fight it with crosswords and sudokus.

I am a little old,

that is true.

Yet,

I sigh at the beauty of creation,

I marvel at the simplest things.

I am alive—

very alive.

I am slowly becoming aware

of who I am.