My city comes running to me every night
Bruised by the scorching heat
from tin of cars
and battered by the demon noises from
sirens around the clock
Tired with rushed rushed rushed
feet of men
Fearing the next crime on its heart
Anxious of
how I will tread on it on
the day of tomorrow
with my shaking hands
steering the wheels.

And I ask it to join me in my ritual
I hold every night
In the tiny patio of
my tiny city apartment
Where I place long strip of stars
on the iron railings

I roll my holy carpet under the black
uncorrupted ceiling of the night
I sip my chamomile tea I brewed
with all my energy vibrations
of the higher kind
I do not water my succulents

And I ask my cat,
my roommate from all past lives,
to come sit next to me

We do not ask our city how its day was
We hold the city’s arms gently
We ask it to lie under our stars
and take a deep breath
Come back to its center
We reiki the heck out of it.

~

Vaishali Paliwal

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