Wondering at It
- Jernail Singh Anand (India)
Many times it happens
I feel a breath close to
my head
Someone just stops
short
Of whispering into my
ears
Then I look around I
was alone
But who made me
write what I did
And who made me
think
What I wrote?
For nothing, they fly
into my mind
And start hanging
From the branches of
my thoughts
And make bedlam
playing with the leaves
Demanding of me to
create a nest for them
Of images and
metaphors
In which they could
stay
And then at will fly out
and in.
To my written work
when I
Return my gaze
I wonder if it was I
Who created this
maze?