tonight
the silk moon weaves me
into its silver streams
the day
creased and gritty
washed, dried
folded away
this moment
I linger in solitude
caressed by that moon
so perfectly round
eyeing me through
the window
a wink
I think I perceive
the acceptance
lulls me slowly
to sleep
© Neetu Malik
my room
a sanctuary
at the end of the day
sound of dying traffic
and a deep silence
settling in
I exhale
the fumes and frustration
prepare for sleep
all it takes
to remember tomorrow’s list
forget things I don’t need
is to remind myself
nothing lasts forever
not even pain, however deep
© Neetu Malik
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When Leora Ebersole sees the small plane crash in her Old Order Mennonite community, she has no idea it's a foreshadowing of things to come.
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