We divided sorrow into minute pieces

We divided sorrow into minute pieces 

Buried some under the giant tree at the back,

Blew some into the vacant air 

And burnt the rest—

what we thought was remaining. 

But a few like some sticky weed

Had glued onto the hem of our clothes 

And followed us back home

Though uninvited.

Stayed there unscathed 

As long as they could. 

But wounds unattended fester fast

And closed windows gather more dust—

Only when it stings or 

The light seeps through the blinds 

We may see them—

Those few pieces

Stayed though uninvited 

Perhaps to keep our amputated hearts intact.