When fear is skinned alive, it becomes a lighted mask. Beige shedding its colour under the sun. A yellow caravanserai riding through Jerusalem. A boat stranded in memory. When its clothes are undraped, it turns into a speck of dust to be kicked afoot. A pair of feet turning towards places no scripture has mapped it on. The trees grow its arms, the sky plays its guide. A shadow is its only body, a pilgrimage borrowed from heaven. Hiding under its own cover, it shreds itself to war, falling, and then finally, nothing.
Yena Kapoor is a writer whose work has appeared in several magazines, journals, and newspapers, internationally and nationally. She’s currently working on her fifth poetry collection.