Dust | Debu-Debu

By and | 31 October 2020

How do I tell a story to all
of the uninvited dust
that momentarily comes and dwells in the crevices of my life?

Will my question be answered
as the wind holds its tongue,
quietly sprinkling dust across the earth?

Are you the rubble of civilisation that vanishes over time?
Or young tears hungry and thirsty for peace and beauty?
Or stains of greed that steep into the bones of the destitute?
Or remnants of lust from red lanes and their houses?
Or are you the reminder of my death?

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