The battle while gulping a bitter pill
And journeying to the Other side
Has a similar after taste.
West of the sun
At a point invisible on your map,
I dug a Hole
Or a hole dug Me.
I couldn't know.
But, unlike Alice's,
My falling journey you don't want to remember,
You don't want to write stories for your children.
All because I met none.
I fell all alone, for so long
That I forgot the memory of Light.
At the end, in all blindness, to comfort myself,
My right hand summoned my left
Only to realize-
I was left touch blind.
But I wake up every day,
Leaving the despair to oversleep with my saddened bedsheet
Only to fall again.
This work has been published in Beetle Magazine's August 2020 Issue.