Thursday, March 8, 2012

An Account Of Our Surroundings

the tiny anxieties
we know
like dirt painted by
cleansing rain
heard by unseen air

we know them by the ten thousand
scars on dry hills
oceans of single gunshots

bleeding rivers
that tear into forest flowers
as rare as peace
passing the testimony of sleeping beasts



Indigo said...


Tiny anxieties wear away a person's soul, but once shed it's a cleansing of a sort. Nature has a much more demure way of shedding anxieties and remaining beautiful at heart. (Hugs)Indigo

Jyoti Mishra said...

very lovely post..
simple yet moving :)

visiting after a long tym
hope u doing fine !!

Whatever said...

but my worst fear
I will not face
I turn away
pretending I never saw
dust into dust
blood salty as the sea
tearing up
leaking from your eyes
rarer than caring
dreaming I was already asleep.