Published in Indian Anthology contemporary poets, Poesy 09, post Taj bombings
Sometimes I am too shy to pray but not today, no. Not after our faces tore and skies brewed black, and stars were smoked and we stared like that; we were so many million poets among carefree corpses
sometimes I am too still to dance again, but not today, not here like this, this Night is young, Its song is pure: Truant words find their cure, broken feet cross their street, unafraid.
Rayla Noel.
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