Grey Skies
I should have cut a piece of blue sky
or maybe two
one for each pocket
the last time it stretched
above me
unblemished and clear,
but I forgot it wouldn't last--
no, it never does.
At least I have the memory
of its cerulean loveliness
when the days are dark
faint though it is
it still hovers like a lost star
searching for a place in
my universe.
©Neetu Malik
-
Walk me through
your caveshow me the petroglyphs
the stories
you have laboriously pecked on the walls
with your hammer stone,
carved in the light of a lantern
where shadows cast gloom. -
I am but dust
a grain of sand
blowing whichever way
the wind blows
in the universe -
You were the guest at my table picking on the corners of the table cloth, fingers nervously folding and unfolding mutilated pride.
-
Neetu Malik’s poetry is an expression of life’s rhythms and the beat of the human spirit. She draws upon diverse multicultural experiences and observations across three continents in which she has lived.
-
I tread softly in your world mindful of my footsteps
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