"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