Carved On Walkways...

"I am the type of person who hides the hurt until it gets to the point where I can't hide it anymore. I walk a lot alone, think things over, and weep, worry and laugh all the same. Well, I let my thoughts go to the earth, in the park, on the walkway home, and now here, too. Passions is a lot like the park where I leave all my thoughts, my silences - that aren't so silent anymore, are they?"

Carved on walkways from the park to home

are the silences of me.

The story of times passing

the tales of the truth to be had.

Carved on walkways from the park to home

are the footprints of every tear

that escort me at night.

Fingerprints for the words I had touched

and my breath on the wind in tune. The prints

of knees in concrete, where I sang out my anger

and wept in this city of stars.

Carved in walkways from the park to home

is the litter of my stains

my scars and their reeking wounds, remains

in trails under the leaves of fall.

Snow and rain can't wash them away

they have been drunk by the roots

of the antique trees in nights of needing

and linger in ways to the door.

They are... the silences of me.

With Love
Manish Mahajan