Panic

Never crossed my mind 
When I get attached into wind's clothes 
While it runs noisy in our courtyard home,
 
I'll stumble suddenly: 
In filament spiders in upper door of home, 
In my father's handprint on a table   
In the smell of my mother's dress,
In bedroom  

I'll stumble 
In remnants of bread crumbs on table 
In wailing' candles, rustle curtains, 
In dark mirrors, dormancy seats'   
In cobwebs in corners,
In clothing, shadows,
In every things 
 
Night here in everywhere!
 
But I woke up dazed, on alarm clock,  
Exactly, on completely death 

Written by © Fatima Nusairat

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