The sign is posted on the porch I've walked many times this way before through seasons warm and cold but no one appears at the door. An abandoned house that says Welcome must have been somebody's abode— leaves me guessing who might have lived in a happy home in this town where few might wander unless they've lost their way, no highways feed into these streets, just old Chevy trucks parked by stacks of hay. A wind chime blows with wind's moody strokes each time I stroll by, but the windows seem so tightly sealed, no visitors knock to say hi. It must have been a place of joy for some kind-hearted folks who lived and left the signpost still hanging on the porch.
© Neetu Malik
here we stand
not one Nation under God
fragmented under
a heaving flag
weighted down
by broken parts
shredded by knives
with rusted edges
blunted, yet sharp
in grievances
old cracks and ignorance
faulted lines below
the glossy glaze
held together
are now frayed
here we are
back in time
rolling in dismal strife
wondering how we got to this
at a loss for a healing fix
as in all things we have learned
there’s seldom a road to permanence
each generation carves its path
this one’s up to us, America.
© Neetu Malik
Wireless Connections
She is
content to be
where she is
between earth and sky
sipping coffee at a black table
in a white-walled cafe
reading a book
but not quite in the pages her eyes wander to where
people are plugged in
to free Wi-Fi on laptops—
their eyes roam, scan the room
focused and unfocused.
She believes there is
no presence of time
in her absent life—
hours, minutes, seconds are
insignificant
there is neither before, nor
an after,
to now she is indifferent
she smiles at the woman seated
at the next table
the one with headphones—
she too is absent from the present
she too is here but not here
the smile that passes between them
a single, cordless connection.
© Neetu Malik
A Mother Learns
© Neetu Malik
Gentle Tread of Spring
redbud blooms quietly
as I sleep through last frost
at first blush of dawn
samaras tumble down
faster than I sweep, so I
let them rain on me
cardinal perches,
my heart lifts from winter gloom,
soaring as it soars
wisteria blooms
outside in soft morning light–
my soul company
© Neetu Malik
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