there is a stranger in the mirror
but it feels safe with her;
maybe i have known her from before-
a doppelganger maybe
it has beckoned me before
to look in the mirror at her-
– a part of i.
feels cold where I place my hand on her image ,my heart
and one person.
the air is damp with the monsoon rains
the clouds , their fullness
lingers through these months,
and i stand here
dripping sweat and tears.
who am i?
this person in the mirror or the one in my body?
what of the soul
wanting to rip through the cage and run past both of us
laughing at our surprise.
and the moisture runs through my veins
i walk past the sweating trees
and the yelping dogs;
their mouths open with
tongues dangling onto one side of their mouth.
I’m looking for a corner to turn into ;
to relocate the mirror and i-
merge us into one.
tired bones creak under the weight of years
solemnly waiting for times to change
and until I do not turn the corner
the view will continue to creak in hinges and corners
like dusty bookshelves
that have become old and over read.
that gap between the mirror and you
will only merge when the weather turns-
we wait for the rains to quench their way through
walk with me
for a while longer
just a clock more
a night less
a day ahead
Dee is from lahore. loves old trees, words and surreal nights~