When I was at the intersection of 5 and 6 years old, my little sister was born. At first, arguments were dense and common between us. However, as we grew older, my sister bridged the gap between family and friends. I could always confide in her and I knew she was always on my side. With her impeccable memory, my problems felt important enough to be remembered.
“My Sister: Architect of Joy” shows my appreciation for her. Despite her reputation as a troublemaker, I always appeased her. In addition, as an Indian American, I’ve felt disconnected from my culture. My sister, however, tethers me to my family’s birthplace. We learn about Indian culture together; her genuine thirst for knowledge inspires my work, just as she did for this poem. Her talent, creativity and positivity help me reach new heights in my work ethic and character.
[Read Related: For my Little Sister (And All of the Girls Like Her)]
My Sister: Architect of Joy
Her giggles are warning to some, healing to me
Eyelids made of wishes when I blow
The dark-melter flame in her eyes
And her cheek paints reminiscent wherever I go
Her hands are crafty, fingertips itch for Kailash
Her restlessness can turn drizzle to storm
Whirlpool of heart throws her to the pits of Naraka
Until my heat transfers to her and our palms whisper
Our birth-giver in common
Created a chasm separating lives
Echo through the caves
Join Atmans in love