Scared of Life's Pyre

I am scared of the logs that will build my pyre,

Of the ones who will stand where I aspired.

I am scared of the dreams that steal my sleep,

Of the thoughts I chase, yet cannot keep.

I am scared of the prayers left unanswered,

As I leave this world before God has concurred.

I am scared of promises to my dad, now shattered,

Of the tours with mom that will never be gathered.

I am scared of the gifts left to rust, unbought,

For my brothers, whose joy I sought.

I am scared of the streets where I dreamed to roam,

With my sister, now lost, as I returned so far.

I am scared of the inner voice—failure, failure, failure—

Of the whispers that change after I'm no longer here.

I am scared of those who will laugh as I depart,

Of the cries that echo, but not from the heart.

I am scared of the masks that will fall away,

Revealing the truth they could never say.

I am scared of those laughing at my dad's cries,

At my mom's silence, at my brothers' depression and sighs.

I am scared that someone else will care for my parents,

That another hand will tie rakhi to my brothers.

I am scared that I will be replaced,

That in their lives, I will be erased.

I wanted to be the girl, strong and kind,

Full of empathy, with a nurturing mind.

I wanted to care for those I love,

To guide my brothers with wisdom from above.

But today, I watch from the sky so far,

As my dreams burn to ashes, just like my body.