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candle's slow burn a puddle of melting wax-- we called it love (c) Neetu Malik Image: riteshman/ pixabay
If I were blind, I would know you by the touch of your hand, the sound of your voice, the bleeding of your heart but I am one with eyes aware of yours.......dwelling on the color of my skin the doubt in your mind, I am wishing we were both blind (c) Neetu Malik Image: Cozmicphoto/ Pixabay
mist fills the night— there are no ghosts, just my self and me in mellow light I pause only to listen to rustling in the trees, where secrets like my own might be guarded mystery it’s not for me to know what those might be, it is a comfort just to feel a kindred familiarity (c) Neetu Malik
For three days and three nights they gathered on the roof stacking stones. On the day the saints marched in (trumpets wailing siren-song) The sky burst open. Inside the house she prayed to see a golden stairway spiral down from heaven. But the escalator would have to do. She hovered a quick goodbye slipped out into hard rain and looking back threw a pillar of salt into the murder. Those black-frocked congregants hard eyes, sleek heads stones rolling from their mouths. Their corrugated...
In this place of power and contradictions I walk uphill. The way is rocky, steep wind pushing from all directions. I am careful where I place my feet. Around me insects buzz in secret conversation not meant for human ears and like the child, unnoticed beneath her parent's table I struggle to catch words beyond my understanding. Their sudden silence, a hole in the air as if they know I am listening and have slammed shut the lid on a mason jar trapping me inside. In this place where she...
night descends I cover myself in its solemn grace of a mother, ever present to ensconce me, keep me safe would Dawn be the stranger lurking, biding its time to reveal all that I wish to hide? my own fears, seedlings that need a brighter light to thrive for now, I embrace the calm, buried in this night I know to be my guardian (c) Neetu Malik
from fresh, tender buds we journey to wilted blooms the earth continues..... (c) Neetu Malik Image: manfredrichter/pixabay Ima