Cobalt Issue 26 - Twisted Nostalgia

S A A R A H L Y A H M E D
CHILD
Memories are our fingerprints.
Sometimes we wear gloves, hiding
them.
An old woman sat in her chair,
She spoke to her daughter.
“When I was young, I was
happy.
Brown eyes gleaming,
As I stared at the sky.
The birds were tweeting,
As I laughed and cried.
Dancing in circles,
Stumbling over my feet,
The noises of cheers,
Made me smile through my teeth.”
The pills popped in the old
woman’s mouth.
Excited to retell her story,
But the sad thing was,
Her childhood was no glory.
Her daughter raised her brows,
As she held her hand tightly.
She knew the story.
When her mother was young, She
had tried to be happy.
Tears down her eyes streaming,
As she stared at the sky.
The birds were tweeting,
As she screamed and cried.
Running in circles,
Stumbling over her feet,
The noises of shouts,
Made her too scared to speak.
She was a child in a war,
A trauma felt through generations.
No war anymore,
But still not healed through age
and patience.
She had convinced herself a
different past,
To heal through twisted memories.
A fly in a trap,
A trap of dishonesty.