Rose Petals & Dusty Wheelchairs by Samaira Mohunta (16, India)

The pitch was wet, the bat was slipping from your grip and the wickets would clash
against each other every time you’d cry.
You’re fighting despite the shooting pain in your left ankle,

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i can still work on my upper body but if you look at me like that i won’t stand a chance.
so I tried to look away.
I sat at the back of the classroom but my fingers would always find
their way back to the silver bangle
that you’d always wear on your right wrist.
Now you’re confined to that black, leather seat moving around with your hands
touching the dusty wheels.
Yesterday you were freewheeling. Today you’re colliding. Tomorrow will you fall?
I still remember the start of it all: you knew of no bandages and you’d walk on your feet.
But they’re on the pitch and you’re just watching them play on national TV.
& I know tomorrow’s a bigger day than today
But asking me not to worry won't cure you of this wound. your body needs rest and so do you.
Stop telling yourself you’re okay when those saline drops wet your cheeks every night.
Rose petals stain the floor red because the weekly hospital visits do no good.
You’re lying in bed watching them play on your screen.
You can go out there again but only if you listen -
But you’re not listening, [when you know you have to] are you?
A don’t let those saline drops wet my cheeks every single night for you & so I won't let them for years.
But what about you, my love? What about you? 

Samaira Mohunta is a 16 year old Indian writer studying in grade 11 at The Shri Ram School, Moulsari. She runs a litmag called NovelNomenal. Her notes app is a refined romanticisation of her feelings; writing helps reduce the magnitude of emotion she sometimes feels; it makes her happier. Her work has been published by Scholastic and The Weight Journal.