Walk me through
your cave
show me the petroglyphs
the stories
you have laboriously pecked on the walls
with your hammer stone,
carved in the light of a lantern
where shadows cast gloom.
I want to see. I want to run
my warm hands along
cold rocks to decipher forms
and feel their rugged ridges.
This light is dim. I need a better view.
Hold my hand and place it where
the scenes begin
that you have etched, with squinted eyes
by a flickering lamp.
I trace them lightly,
my fingers grow numb—
in your cave’s icy hollows
there is no echo of love,
even your stories are silent.
Are you still here or am I
alone?
(c) Neetu Malik
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When faced with a darkened doorstep, think before you walk through.
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More info →A Slice of Orange is an affiliate with some of the booksellers listed on this website, including Barnes & Nobel, Books A Million, iBooks, Kobo, and Smashwords. This means A Slice of Orange may earn a small advertising fee from sales made through the links used on this website. There are reminders of these affiliate links on the pages for individual books.
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