Reena Prasad writes

Someone Came Knocking

A shadow that strolled to a gate
had my eyes
I was bound up but the shadow was free
to look at and feel the emptiness
that grips me
time and again when a land calls
You showed me the imprint
and I filled in the missing details
thankfully
Footprints in the dust, scattered footwear
the exiled conversations in the breeze
the cobwebs in the black letter box
the black lizard babies in it
the sunlight of warmth spilling onto the road
the silence of a home waiting for a doorbell's chime

Today the afternoon was me
The bent boughs, the half dead creepers,
the closed windows and the mossy steps
were me
waiting forever
for more voices and footfalls
for more life
for a return

that is never sure of its welcome

-- Rashad Alakbarov