wind whistles
in the distance
where desert sands
meet the sky
undulating waves of sound
break the silence
of remorse—
self-inflicted wounds
soothed by softly falling night
a balm of star-speckled skies
covers them
as lulling music hums and whooshes
almost like an ocean, rhythmic
cooling blistered souls
who wander lost
in the unknown
© Neetu Malik
The streets of Seville keep
their best secrets hidden in the dark
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 , , ,
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