Fractured light.












A sprawl of steps, a stretch of pavement,
and the ragged edges of humanity
colour the space between myself and the mosque

A knot of three or four children flit alongside
brief, urgent steps marking time, sharp and shattered
barefoot remains of unclaimed existence

A tiny sea of cries, and from among them
a small hand reaches, presses against my hip
and remains there, as if a touch could heal

The hem of a sari brushes the street, the feet of Delhi
the hem of a soul comes unstitched, fibers drift
within a web of fractured light


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