Seeing Brian

She’s reading from blank pages

Those stories she’d mumble with bright eyes

to the child that sat on the rocking chair

next to her barred window

She said his name was Brian

and that he had golden hair

and crooked teeth

but he smiled sweetly

She’d whisper that he brought her chocolates

wrapped in tissues

in the mornings

and snuck them into her drawer

She’d giggle mischievously

because the mean ladies never found them

Sometimes she’d just sit on her bed

rocking herself back and forth

with a peaceful smile stretched across

her wrinkled face

listening to him speak

She didn’t like taking her meds

because she said it made him sad

and he wouldn’t visit quite as often

One day, when the doctor stopped by

she screamed at him and called him blind

and when I came in later to ask

what had gone wrong

she told me he was the crazy one

because he couldn’t see her Brian

And I didn’t understand

why they wouldn’t let the poor lady be

delighted and contended

in her beautiful world of delusion

because in our world

she was all alone

So when she smiled and told me

that she liked me

and put a finger to her lips

and winked

as she offered me empty tissues

from her drawer

I told her

that Brian loved her very much

And she looked

towards the empty rocking chair

grinning

and whispered, “I love him more”

Asha

She has big hazel eyes

that stare back at me

with mesmerized wonder

through my camera lens

Later I’ll learn that she’s never seen such a thing before.

Her long black hair is tied into a braid

but little curls fall out next to the baby hair

framing her deep caramel skin

half-covered by a stunning orange silk dupatta

Later I’ll learn that the silk is covering a terrible scar.

I stare at her tiny hands

as they beat effortlessly on the drums

she was always meant to play

because she was just born that way

Later I’ll learn she may never know how to read or write.

The smile that stretches across her face is miles long

and little lines line her eyes

with the mischievous laughter

of little children

Later I’ll learn her marriage has been arranged.

I kiss the dimple on her cheek and say goodbye

and she whispers in soft Hindi in my ear

that she wants to be a doctor too

some day

Later I’ll learn that her name is Asha. Hope.