Demons

Eclipse is when the moon stands in front of the sun

Looking for its reflection as a whole entity

Finding that it’s smaller and darker

A storm is when the wind and the rain turn my garden to muck

Monsoon is when young girls sway on the seats of tall swings

Monsoon is when the river swells and wipes away little towns on its banks

In eyes like mine saline waters of a rising tide threaten but do not spill

Doomsday recurs every day

With different names and in different garbs

Dark, deep and quiet

Dreams in the night become dreams of the night

Beauty of life remains undecided

For reasons like the peacock and its feet and its cry

I look for signs; I read the lines

In coffee cups, in sea shells and on the palm of my hand

I find you closer than myself, to me

I pray to keep and I let it bee