"Scatter"
is a beautiful word
its chatter and sound
churn like the anklets of soul;
Clinking
the beads of body
that drown as a rusk
into the sea of dawn
scattered,
the rays that
float over a neon sky
scratching its simmering slate
scattered, the prayers
that crawl from
the speakers of
mosques
Meandering in
streets,
scattered is the
incense that
flow from trees
scattered is the
damask glory of the day
which like moths coil
against the jasmines of night
scattered are the chirpings
that flung across the twilight
scattered are the colors of rainbow
that drop as hails
collecting them in a pit by roadside
scattered, the moans of patangas* that impreg the river of light
scattered the voices
that cluster inside mind
scattered, the head
that knocks thoughts of dead
weaving in blood
a laced emotion of scars,
the fingers that once felt like flowers
scatter in the gardens that
glide through the throat of moon
swallowed by its own serpentine wails
scattered, the eyes that wiped
their own tears,
scattered, the hair that riped with each passing year
scattered the shells that
splash against the sea coast
scattered, the tinctured butterflies and leaves,
scattered, the lives that evolved from seeds,
"Scatter" is such
a beautiful word
its cadence and rhythm
woven to the pulsating
