By Ishan Sharma
Doors of death
opens suddenly
like a sudden wave
rises upon me,
I summon myself,
my poor skelton
into flames and ashes,
my nails
my hair
my shadow
dying of grief,
my warm blood
blazes the sky.
Rain crying from far off
whispers to my thirsty lips
Who knocks at your door?
you must open the door
you must open your eyes
you must walk with heavy steps,
as blind roads
are waiting for you,
do not fear,
no more to leave
but to stay
with the one,
who once stopped at your window!