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Deception |
How distant and far life feels,
as I count my breath,
on the broken steps of the temple?
Counting my breath
gets heavier with every step.
I open myself to the pain
like the fallen oak opens
itself to the wild.
The blades of grass
covered with thin layers of ice
that fungal death,
pain always deceives
as it morphs and molds every time.
It hides in plain sight
like the serrated ends of my dying lilies
bobbing in the pink vase
resting and rotting for weeks.
Appearance is everything
deception is a rule of nature.
Pain is humbling like
the stooped back of my granny.
Like a name called in the dark
in the middle of the night,
you learn to ignore it.
Death, a loyal stalker,
waiting to call out my name.
Just once.
copyright 2019
Megha
Sood |
