Celestial snapshots

Life is honored in the periphery

Where the light dims

Gust of air eddies into itself

Words halt in jagged fractals

You look at the streaming feathers of peregrine

Very much aware of the beetle dancing on the dung

Seeking guidance from the heaven    

Ants

They come out of the depth of mind

to patrol the scene.

Sniff the landscape for new thoughts, overturn the old ones

Dig out reminisces, take note of the forgotten.

Gives all clear to foragers.

Who spread out from recess in three four files, cautious and eager.

And set about to search words where thoughts can reach.

Word midden piles up and rots with half masticated sentences  

The foraged work out a tale that it fancy.

These are carried back to feed the queen memory.

To reset.

To reassure that words can make a better world.

And redeem the day.

        

The line.

She cannot see the line that demarcates. The line that passes through the land, the rivers, the forest and her soul. She longed to break free and run naked across the field and into the sky. He doesn’t see it too. He was alien in this land plucked from his native village, hoisted in army fatigue and battle guards. He found the terrain challenging despite rigorous training. It was cold and grey here. He longed for mango trees in his village. The warm musky air that brought memories. She wanted to forget her memories. She was dealing with the nightmare. Sometimes she created her own reality to escape the constant dread. Her mind was working a picture. It had roses in it. He was always tense. He dread each passing human. He had no luxury to work a new reality. There was no escape. He kept his eyes open and blank, ears alert for any movement. His body had become his eyes and ears. He was tired but he had his duties. The line had to be defended. The orders were clear. Enemies were vicious brutes assured of god’s blessing.

She passed him on the street. He stopped her at the barricade. He gazed her in a mix of apprehension and boredom. She avoided him and fixed herself on the ground. The dry cold air played between them before moving onto the sidewalk and settling with the dry leaf. He asked her what she carried. She said its vegetables and condiments. He poked the barrel into her bag while fingers playing on the trigger. She looked wary and resigned. She was tired. They paused. The blast from the building carried the sonic waves and blew her and him with it. Frozen in the moment they began to dismember. His limbs broke free and fell on her so as to protect. Her head was aghast and fell with his in the nearby playground that were ransacked by weeds. It caught fire, the black smoke bellowed into huge ball signaling the carnage to faraway. Birds flew disoriented and created a great ruckus to protest the misfortune. Through this tragic scene two souls in pristine white emerge holding tight crossing the land, the river and the forests. They knew their path back home, and they were in a hurry. There was lot to share.