death of a faerie

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the ancient faerie, with her
golden wings coming off
the hinges,

flicks away the sheath of
rich-grey hair
that have fallen (in love) over
her strong, stooped shoulders.

she puts away the dust-
pan and awakens through
her rusted iron-ore wand-
hand (single-spaced, spelled,
sustained),

an apparition of her
youth, her dark-eyed
energy of yesteryears

— the pneuma that always finds its
return, inwards,
outwards,
back to its source —

a golden woman, a silver lifeline,
and the womb of death,

the midnight carriage moving
towards
an unflinching,
hundred-wrinkled,
time-bound
end.

© Anmol Arora

For With Real Toads’ Un-Fairy Tales
Image source (Willem De Kooning’s Woman II (1952))

***

I have been working on a new Insta handle for about 2 months now, for literary and creative posts: @anmol.ha.
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Labyrinthine Life: A Haibun

Sometimes you find yourself abandoned, lost- suffocating in the labyrinthine arms of life. There is no way you could get out of it, but one last option you have been thinking of lately; still unable to decide if you are capable of enacting upon it. I have thought a lot many times of how it would feel to be falling down a building… what all thoughts would go through the mind, what all emotions would shroud over those dead eyes.

falling down

unfathomable feelings

imagining

Or would it be just numbness; I don’t know of it but I can imagine as I try blindly, moving here and there so that something magical could happen to bring me to where the string is present of destiny… so that I could untangle it because it is definitely messed up right now.

string of destiny

solution for labyrinth

still unfound

And I fall down somewhere in the darkness. Now I sit looking at nothing, feeling nothing, but still with that wish for a magical transformation of what has been bestowed to me by my life.

labyrinth of life

wait for that magical spell

feeling of nothing

.

Photo source