Image for post
Image for post

Art by Author

.

Oh she knows. She has seen my dreams. She is walking by the last sea left for the kinds of us. She is picking those shells made in (god) water they never held or saw, under skies of rose they cannot imagine, with hands that carry my eleven moons. She is walking in the rain and chanting words that just us two had picked in our last lives as messenger birds of a feather galaxy of an invisible universe. Our poetry is in the shadows of our footsteps in a silver sand that never was. Our ghost is delicious. Our ghost is your tear.* She is ready to fly now. She is calling my name.*
.
Vaishali Paliwal
.
.
Dedicated to Shringi Kumari Lea Lumi’ere

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store