COLOURS

Holi came and went, leaving me with its colours,
Blood and gore, the irremovable stains of parents' tears, the black stain of drunken driving, the unwashable hues of peoples' misery, left all alone to suffer.
The stain of sweat on my brow and the imprint of guilt on my soul, as I spent an entire night, filled with futile attempts to stop 2 lives from slipping away, these were the colours of Holi for me. How do you tell the 70 year old parents of a student, when they call you, long-distance, that their son is hanging-on, by his teeth,?
The colours were so different, I was so different, the stained faces and hands meant happier things once, I long for 'that-boy' to come back into my life.
It is a 24 hour joy-ride for me, guess I better go back in, the families need 'counselling' and 'consoling', and I need my high.