Vanishing
In past
I am.
Random illegible scribbles from the boundaries of a lost home, from the heartland of a country without my address, from the coast where I discovered myself walking over the sea. A journey from Kashmir to New York to New Delhi.
Thursday, June 11, 2015
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Graveyard
After all the violence
And the discordance
She stood there
Inspecting her
With astonishment
Some confusion too
What is she like
Will I ask her?
Shall I?
I lie there,
Did she judge
Me, my conflict?
The conversation
She and I did not
Think loud
In that gulf
Broke the silence
In the graveyard.
And the discordance
She stood there
Inspecting her
With astonishment
Some confusion too
What is she like
Will I ask her?
Shall I?
I lie there,
Did she judge
Me, my conflict?
The conversation
She and I did not
Think loud
In that gulf
Broke the silence
In the graveyard.
Friday, June 5, 2015
Walk back
My Ls, my Vs,
My Zs and my Ds
I pick up
From the floor
Where I last
Found them broken
Scattered like
Leaves of autumn.
Cold and parched
They lie
Their veins honed
Freckles deepened
In dust and mud
Boot stamped
String them together
I walk back.
My Zs and my Ds
I pick up
From the floor
Where I last
Found them broken
Scattered like
Leaves of autumn.
Cold and parched
They lie
Their veins honed
Freckles deepened
In dust and mud
Boot stamped
String them together
I walk back.
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