First Published in KOAN ( Paragon Journal), Aug 2018


Have you seen the way, the surreal way

the noon sits at the end of the evening

encumbered by the pain

and the wet promises the morning brought

Now seems to be dying

Broken at the seams

frayed and tattered

those splintered edges are

now scraping the edges

of the horizon

making the sky bleed crimson red

You don’t see it

Do you?

You eyes lack that tranquility

as that of the monk who sits in the distance

all his worries knotted

in his crisscrossed legs

he knows how to tie the knot.

You have lost that art

and now you can’t escape the worries

like the moth is drawn towards the flame

and here you sit at

the precise moment of the noon turning into dusk

frazzled by the thought

how to stop to crimson sky from bleeding

as your thoughts

have again loosened the tourniquet


Photo by Oleksandr Kurchev on Unsplash

23 thoughts on “Tourniquet

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