The Bones Of Her

By Mrunal Nerkar
When Meera gave birth to a girl,
The very first thing she did was
To weave her a tongue of apologies,
With the needle of her ribs and her love as the thread.  
The first word of substance, the word her daughter spoke, 
Before she learnt to say her own name was 
"Sorry."
Meera made sure that her daughter knew the word,
And that her daughter knew it well, 
For a "Sorry" could have not saved Meera from a bruised hip or a split lip, 
But it definitely had saved her life. 
Meera had said the word so many times, 
That she was half human, half apology. 
She spoke "Sorry" like it was a prayer, 
A prayer repeated so often, 
That it had become noise. 
Meera's daughter grew up, 
Listening to a lullaby to the tune of remorse,
She inherited her mother's gentle hands, 
But shed the apologetic skin her mother had wrapped her in. 
Meera's daughter grew old, and birthed a daughter of her own. 
The first thing Meera's daughter did was
To weave her daughter a soul of fire, 
With her mother's gentle hands and the warmth in her belly. 
The bones of her daughter would be the same, 
But the skin wouldn't be. 
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This poem won in Instagram Weekly Contest held by @delhipoetryslam on the theme 'My Sincerest Apologies' 

4 comments

  • Simply wowww😍

    Tanya jain
  • Beautifully written
    Congratulations

    Navneet
  • So lovely and profound 💟

    Sukanya
  • Beyond beautiful. Loved the way it is written and expressed👌

    Gargi

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