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| NISHIT DEY |
A Thousand Versions
Being a caregiver
has carved a thousand versions of me—
the steady one, the tired one,
and 998 more
sculpted by my calloused hands.
Writing is the place
I gather them all,
stacking their shadows and bruises
until I recognize the outline
of who I am beneath their weight.
When I put a day, a week, a year into words,
I see strength I didn’t know I spent,
I feel muscles I didn’t know I strained,
a resilience built quietly in the background
of every waking moment.
I see the softness, too—
the part of me that refuses to die out,
the flicker that outlives the exhaustion.
His persistent smile keeps me anchored
when the current tests my footing.
I sail toward the sound of his belly laugh,
and even the waves surrender
to his unseen power,
washing me ashore.
A thousand versions of me carved,
bound by one common thread—
he was born to be my miracle,
the singular piece
they all can’t live without.
© Chris Biscuiti
| Chris Biscuiti |

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