With my skin burned away, I’m still human.

I cannot begin to imagine,
fathom,
what it feels like to face a change due to a disaster.
Be it burned or harassed or impaired,
anything.
I believe there are two important sides
to this ‘change’.

One, the before.
When I was ten and I lied for the very first time,
my father took five of my favorite books
and asked me to tear them to pieces.
I know I didn’t want to do it,
I didn’t want this to happen,
I wasn’t okay with it.
This
is just a mini-metaphor for the pain
that the warriors must’ve felt.
Their pain must be
a million times this?
Two, the after.
My brother was nineteen when he had a kid
and his girlfriend left him.
He decided to make the child happy
all alone.
He wasn’t ready
but he was ready to learn how to be.
Again, a micro-metaphor
for the lessons warriors have to learn.

I cannot begin to imagine,
fathom,
what it feels like to face a change due to a disaster.

I don’t want to
But I have to
Because every time I hear someone making fun
Of the man with burnt arms
I can feel my own skin peeling away
with sadness and anger
My flesh burning
Scars appearing in the same pattern
Inch by inch
Burned stories etching themselves onto my skin
Personal ones charring away
I become more him than myself
and I use that to make things right.

I cannot begin to imagine,
fathom,
what it feels like to face a change due to a disaster.
But I want you to be able
to imagine what human feels like
by showing you a mirror
when you need me to.


Previous posts: Not all dates are the same.
Instagram: @utsavraj_

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