The particles of light shout, yell,
laugh and run on the cement floor.
The hundred and ten year old bricks
smile today. Even the brown part of the moss
glows. A few metres of green runs and follows
the light. A sudden water hidden beneath
the blue lotus whispers about the lifecycle of death.
Here the odor carries darkness in its centre.
Light doesn’t care. Light chases light
around the patch. My mother shouts
and runs through me to catch the rascals.
Who can outrun light? She cannot even
win over her darkness. I murmur,
“Be careful, or you may fall into the pond
like the last time. She cannot hear me.
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Kushal Poddar
Picture Nick Victor
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