First Published in Two drops of Ink, Oct 2018


My body gives slowly and surely

to this merciless time

a body so sure of itself

a malady of the sorts

like the mothball

losing itself to the air


Sometimes, I find love in things which are broken and lost

like that rotting chair on the porch

that broken swing

old skewed painting in my grandpa’s room

with its pixellated memory

still etched in me

pain is a colorless remembering


Some things can never be forgotten

the day I saw my friend pulled out like a

cinder block from devouring merciless river,

grief morphs your memories in a different way

imbued with life at one moment

and pale in another

life has its own color


I cried for weeks when my songbird died

my voice died along with her

but this death doesn’t move me at all.

eventually, the dead comes alive

scorched earth turns green too

every time the rain falls

like an impossibility.

Photo by Tobias Kebernik on Unsplash






20 thoughts on “Impossibility

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