Trudging in a blazing desert brimming
with mirages at every seventh mile

Parched lips, benumbed senses
Gasping breaths, dog-tired steps

Yet somehow
alive, palpitating on spirits’ crutches

Dusk unfurling its sail as the sun grows
thin and frail, melting in the glistening sand

Night tiptoes donning its tenebrous cape
and I gaze

at the gleaming holes in the sky hoping
to witness a shooting star

They don’t fall anymore
dreading what if I made a wish upon them

I touched the periphery of green oasis once,
Must be a dream

Why else would I be revolving
in the same hamster wheel

In a prison of time and space
rocking back and forth involuntarily

Chalking hash marks to count quarantine
that began before the pandemic

I knock inside to hear the soul’s verdict,
It’s stubborn, hope still flows in its veins…

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Swati writes on mental health, nature & spirituality. Work published in various magazines including Inspire the Mind, The Sunlight Press, Stonecrop Review & more. www.twitter.com/swati2610