The waves crash upon the beach and erase everything I have been working on.
The sand once again glittering in the sun, pristinely silent.
Words I had etched into the brown sandy shores taken by the ocean,
Resting among the seaweed, forgotten.
Here I find myself in October, whose sleepy sunshine returns to slumber
Before the clock strikes Six.
And before it is 7, the dusk peeks through the dusty sky
As the cars return to their garages to fold the day into it’s pigeon hole.
I barely knew when the burning sun of Bangalore’s April in 2016
Died down today, but I knew that the evening felt odd.
Cumbersome in its manner, lifeless in a way.
I folded the day by myself before the long summer day closes its eyes
And slips into the past,
Because I felt like my footsteps in the sand were being erased
And before the day did more damage, I put it down slowly,
Into its bed and asked it to rest.
I’ve been walking for a while, and it worried me
To not be able to see how far I’ve come.
The waves kept taking it away from me.
I feel like I’ve seen that shack before,
And that plant, and those rocks, and that tree.
It all seems like I’ve come back to Square One.
The beginning. The starting line. The darkest Hour.
I may have a lesson to learn if I think I’m still stuck.
What am I not able to see?