The knot

This poem I hid inside a clock,
inside a pocket of apprehension
of my mind I shan’t unlock.

For more often than not,
there hidden are thoughts
unkind, entwined in a knot.

I pull threads
out of this knot of chaos
and plait a poem – a pledge.

It is to war I embark,
white lands to mar with hatred,
black lies and sins to defend.

When will I return?

As long as Mother can overlook
my petty crime,
I’m off the hook.

But until when will I
escape my slithering Fate?

Is my punishment benign?
Is it doom? Did I commit a crime?

Danger feels cold like steel
around my hands.
Was it real?

My pulse is magnetised –
for a second or two..

I know. Because my knot remains unravelled…


Photo by Markovich Photo Art


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