Wednesday, March 9, 2016


In this house
Nothing is lost
But little can be found;
Those who have died
And disappeared
Refuse to leave
Seem to be present everywhere
As unseen guests;
Even in these few hundred feet
Mother loses her way
To the prayer room,
Says either the gods are
Playing hide and seek
Or the things
Which cannot sleep
Move from room to room
Hoping for shut-eye somewhere
Leaving behind a labyrinth;
I know the maze is elsewhere
Made when things became 
Thicker than blood
The distances were allowed to grow
Till the trails went cold
And there was no way to tell
Where home was

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