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
we were wingless
until we knew love
our breathless breath
lifted us
into rainbows
in its gurgling sprint
toward the sea
this river into which
I empty love’s ashes—
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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