It is the most sacred journey,
the one that remakes a woman from within.
You crossed it long ago,
shed the skin of waiting,
walked into freedom.

I stand at the edge of it now,
learning to walk with baby steps,
hands trembling on invisible railings.

We were inseparable, even with miles between us,
talking daily,
missing each other at every celebration.
Exchanging notes not just on makeup and clothes,
but on the small troubles and vast challenges of life.
I wonder where that went.
The one who used to text, “I miss you, when are you back?”
has now gone without a word.

I searched for your shadow beside me,
but only found meaningless meanderings,
gossip that benefits no one,
in old messages.

I see you with others,
at parties and celebrations,
and I wonder if it’s all about glamour.
My journey is less glamorous now;
is that why you never bothered to check on me?

When I wanted to end it all and reached out,
you didn’t know how to respond.
I understood.
But this journey,
the one you have already walked,
I thought it would move you,
stir some tenderness,
some sisterhood.
Instead, nothing.

I am baffled.
I thought we were sisters from another mother,
but maybe we were always different.

It breaks my heart,
how someone so close
can let you down,
and quietly so.