Abyss
She opens her hands,
clenched for years
in a tight fist
like a new-born,
but these fists hold no secrets
of a mother’s womb,
no innocence, or dreams freshly sown—
instead, their hardened skin bears
lacerations that come
from a hard grip
on a fugitive soul
sliding mercilessly
into the devil's pit
deep, deep
where she buried
old wounds
(c) Neetu M.
-
they said to remember crawdads
asked me to listen for their song
when my heart was heavy
and my sorrow dark -
Neetu Malik’s poetry is an expression of life’s rhythms and the beat of the human spirit. She draws upon diverse multicultural experiences and observations across three continents in which she has lived.
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the wolves are quiet tonight
-
Neetu Malik’s poetry is an expression of life’s rhythms and the beat of the human spirit. She draws upon diverse multicultural experiences and observations across three continents in which she has lived.
-
Neetu Malik’s poetry is an expression of life’s rhythms and the beat of the human spirit. She draws upon diverse multicultural experiences and observations across three continents in which she has lived.
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