A Suppressed Great

Archana Kannan

 

I am now living in a simple, smiling city,

listening to the common people from a balcony

and I clasp your body into an embrace as you carry me.

I’m thankful for your tender shelter.

 

You take me into the dining room and we

serve ourselves a platter of your cooking. I stare

at your frame in envy as you get up to get a scoop.

I once had a body like yours.

 

I used mine to swim. My arms moved in harmony

with my legs, kicking as rapidly as possible. The clamor of

the water echoed into my submerged ears. Like a singer

singing the chorus of a song, I had reached my optimum ability.

 

I was finally not far from my dream: to receive an Olympic

medal on the podium labeled ‘1’, and hear the song of

my land in tearful exhilaration. My insides throbbed and my chest

would fill with luster at theĀ  mere thought of it.

 

I could never fathom a reality where I was strong enough

to be worthy of being called one of the Greats, but I had

done it. I finally wasn’t under their long shade but could

join and stand tall with them, like a beautifully carved stanchion

 

of an antique stand. I would officially be considered one

of them once the slowly approaching day arrived. Now, I

simply sit in this wheelchair, still staring at your sculpted body. I

glance at your legs in longing, and you notice.

 

I ponder the possibility of spiritual influences that casually

control the movement of my life, accidentally breaking my spine

along the way but fortunately intertwining my destiny with yours,

like fate was making a basket weave on a pleasant afternoon.

 

All I have now is my heart and trust placed within you, and you

direct my attention to the west-setting sun through the windowpane.

 

 


Archana Kannan is an eleventh grader attending Alcuin School in Dallas. She is in the International Baccalaureate program and is working towards obtaining the IB Diploma. Born in the USA, she grew up in India. She enjoys swimming and Taekwondo and competes professionally.