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
theirs might be,
but a comfort to feel
a kindred familiarity
© Neetu Malik
I try
to find words for war
how it wrecks, how it feels
but
there is no language I find
to reach
I will weave you garlands
of dazzling wisteria
twine the flowers , , ,
I will plant sunflowers
in the hollows we have dug
with a rusty spade
mist fills the night—
there are no ghosts, just my self
and me in mellow light
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