Do You Recognize Me?

I am curving on the precipice of here and then.

watercolour, ink

Do You Recognize Me?

You lit in me a quiet fire and forged an opening for my emptiness.

I poured out through tiny tears in the veil and it strained each thread till the purdah tore and I could not be contained.

I am sprawled and heavy with skin though you feel me as a whisper.

Many tried to hold my name in their mouth—I remember when you first ushered in my being, not through sound but through silence.

I am curving on the precipice of here and then. You beckon me to liminal space but I want to land and retire these wings from their endless migration.

Tethered to the concave of that heroic chest, I want to cling like sinews to the bone and never leave.

And so I leak into the night, when your lids are heavy and you sense the edge of this world brushing with the next.

I am a vagrant hungry for sleep, waiting only for the darkness I embody.

I I am here in hiding, awaiting my arrival. Do you recognize me?