when the plague is over

when the plague is over

when the plague is over when the dead have been forgotten when the locks are broken come meet me by the water under the sycamore tree
the graveyard in my mind

the graveyard in my mind

There is a graveyard of lost friendships in my mind that I often visit. It is always there, very much in close proximity, but in the rush hour of life, one seldom gets to sit down and say, “Come now, let me visit the graveyard of forgotten friendships. Let me...
Bards Written in Blood

Bards Written in Blood

“Don’t tell my father I have died,” he says, and I follow him through blood on the road and hundreds of pairs of shoes the mourners left behind, as they ran from the funeral, victims of the firing. From windows we hear grieving mothers, and snow begins to fall...
dear child

dear child

dear child, don’t haunt me with your big, kohl-lined, black doe eyes, with those fluttering lashes that drape upon your cheeks as you blink in timeless motion. you have left in your wake empty hands that still extend outwards, towards you, stretched in hopes...
October

October

October has this beautiful melancholy about it, even while it is a month of leaving: migrating seagulls, parting leaves, chilly winds that separate the warm months from the cold ones. It is not just the colors that emerge during this month – the reds, the...
Lingering Scents

Lingering Scents

Strange isn’t it, how we can imagine perfectly the scent of things we remember, or are familiar with — though, if I were to ask you now to write in words what a rose smells like, you’d find it impossible to do that? How do you describe the scent of roses,...