The Family Heirloom
“Why words, when they’re so slippery?” Whisperings find me standing At the bridge — Squinting through light and darkness To see what’s left to hold as tra...
Tag: poem
Where It Begins?
I thought of war and peace not the one of Tolstoy but self-limiting beliefs shying away from light, when already a black dot swimming in a white sea. To what le...
A Feigned Pose
In abundance, it grows Deep wisdom ancient Alongside stinging nettle Gracefully, it stands I, too feign a pose Itching injury persistent. All I should do is bre...