Doctor, Lost recipe, Church.
Should I be ashamed at the helplessness I feel?
They tell me I need to “be seen”–
all it was, was a written two bit, …
so what if it came down from my grandmother?
They should have remembered the ingredients–
I only made it a billion times, to satisfy their desire.
Now, a lost recipe, which is probably lying deep
somewhere among the old books, faded and discolored
with circular stains of coffee mugs on the dust covers,
has betrayed my sanity. They say I need to be seen,
But tell me which doctor would listen to my story
and not wonder if I have onset of dementia or Alzheimer’s
disease? Have they not lost a million things that I have given them?
Why the frowns? Why the “You are so incompetent” looks?
Why the shrugging of shoulders and the bored body language?
I need some peace. Need a place where I can bend my head
and ask for deliverance. Should I go to a church, or mosque
or a temple to find some solace,
or should I stay within these walls and pretend that
they still love me? Was my youth filled
with difficult choices like these?
Zakiah Sayeed. 1/19/2016