by Shikha S. Lamba
I gaze at the rust, now blending into the metal bars.
Stiff cracked bicycle treads, delaminated tire skins,
compromised integrity
exposing itself on full display on my old bike.
Things and people abandoned for too long are often
reduced to scrap, or carcasses devoid of withstanding life.
Much of living is about transformation, they say,
even more so for the neglected trappings in our lives,
even more so for those forgotten, now
holding on to the edges, validating their existence.
How does a being shred and grind itself back into
something of purpose? How do we remodel and reconstruct
ourselves despite the irreparable damage to our skins,
and face the world, and say
I am still of use, just not in the same way.
© 2025 Shikha S. Lamba All rights reserved.
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