The sign is posted on the porch I've walked many times this way before through seasons warm and cold but no one appears at the door. An abandoned house that says Welcome must have been somebody's abode— leaves me guessing who might have lived in a happy home in this town where few might wander unless they've lost their way, no highways feed into these streets, just old Chevy trucks parked by stacks of hay. A wind chime blows with wind's moody strokes each time I stroll by, but the windows seem so tightly sealed, no visitors knock to say hi. It must have been a place of joy for some kind-hearted folks who lived and left the signpost still hanging on the porch.
© Neetu Malik
Some of Neetu’s Books
-
mist fills the night—
there are no ghosts, just my self
and me in mellow light -
be happy
she says, her soft arms
hold me as I lean
into them
seeking reassurance
a promise to protect -
be happy
she says, her soft arms
hold me as I lean
into them
seeking reassurance
a promise to protect -
The sign is posted
on the porch
I’ve walked many times
this way before
through seasons warm and cold
but no one appears at the door. -
here we stand
not one Nation under Godfragmented under
a heaving flag
weighted down
by broken partsshredded by knives
with rusted edges
blunted, yet sharp
in grievances
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