AIR
whispers before
they are
words
dust
rising like memory
a thought
you didn’t think
the bird
is not the wind
but moves
as if it remembers
being it
drift
between breath and sky
a pause becomes a place
I go
and
go
silence turns
over itself
until the hush
becomes a question
not asked
not waiting
to fall...
Copyright © Rahma Dar | Year Posted 2025
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