
wetting my feet
in the old pond
I pause to remember
how it felt
back when the feet
were young and free
but memories wrinkle
and my skin is worn and coarse
to feel the same things
the water in this pond
too murky
to bring back
the clarity of fresh water lilies
and unclouded hopes
(c) Neetu Malik

how many steps
to the edge of the world
she wants to know
small feet press on
each foot forward
taking her closer to
destination unknown
undeterred, unwavering
asking the same question
though she knows
I have no answer
though I am
mother
© Neetu Malik

we were wingless
until we knew love
our breathless breath
lifted us
into rainbows
eagle-like we soared
fearless and bold
flapping newfound wings
feathers soft as gossamer
and it was then
we understood
the lightness of being
©Neetu Malik

Where the River Ends
in its gurgling sprint
toward the sea
this river into which
I empty love’s ashes—
indeed like many others
before me—
makes no fuss
no cries of complaint
the sediments and muck
of human sorrow
are all the same
to be deposited into
wider arms
deeper depths
dispersed and dispelled
© Neetu Malik

unaware, you become
resigned to
where you find yourself
relieved there’s no rush
to hit the road again
the road will be there
it never ends
you’d rather stay awhile
make some friends
enjoy a short stop
at a wayside brewery
pulling over
you scrutinize the long list of brews
names you haven’t heard before
the bartender smiles as he explains
the dark and the pale
you’re tired of the same old stout and ale
you ask for the hoppiest he can recommend
you take a swig, a sharp tang on your tongue
tells you it’ll do
the road has a long wait
it’s going to be quite a while
before you’re ready to move
© Neetu Malik
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