Lost in Translation

You hand the waiter an extra tip, 

folded and forgettable. 

He carries it home like a cherished relic, 

counts it twice. 

Somewhere, he sleeps easier. 

But you will never know this. 

You unknowingly scowl at the street 

sharp wind hitting your face, 

tightness in your own skin. 

A woman passing by flinches, 

feels smaller. 

You will never know this either. 

We move like blind gods, 

shaping the air around us, 

never seeing what we create and ruin. 

A word misplaced, 

or a silence held too long. 

Who really knows what bruises? 

You tell me how you feel 

I follow along and nod. 

I don’t grasp it though, not really. 

But I say I do, 

because that is the extent our minds can fathom, 

limited by our capacity as mere humans. 

We are the architects of invisible ruins. 

The weight of our words,  

the weight of our actions, 

always worth more than we could ever imagine.

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Written by Nidhi Suraparaju, Photography: Arushi Balasundaram, Social Media: Rosa Fernandez, Styling: Jiya Ghorpade, Event: Breanna Barnett