I'll Return

Even if you crush and crumple me, I will return as your sixteen-year-old lover.

Even if you wring me out like water from wet cloth, I will come back as your midnight tears.

Even if you tear me apart with claws and teeth, I will return as a newly-woven red handloom sari.

Even if you leave me bloodied on the ground, I will take the form of incense smoke and rise.

Even if you push me away in neglect, I will bloom as water hyacinths across your pond.

Even if you crumple me like tissue, I will come as sweet rice at harvest time.

Even if you discard me like leftover curry, I will come disguised as malabar spinach vines.

You cannot send me away, know this. I will come.