To conclude, a contribution by the Indian poet Madhu Raghavendra, a future participant in IWP’s 2021 fall residency.

Future 

Madhu Raghavendra

I close my eyes
and see that the roads
don't leap like rabbits
that have sensed a predator.
They are down in their burrows
hiding from their own selves
distancing from their own selves
running from own selves
from one chamber to another.  

My windowpane has etched 
my reflection faintly
but like that of a young girl
who pretends to believe there is a home
across the blue hills, near the river
where there are butterflies and birds,
abundant flowers and fruits,
large rooms echoing with songs
and musical instruments,
knowing it's a lie. 

She believes
whatever our future may hold
our soft lives of clay
should be shaped
on the potter's wheel;
gently pulled up wide open
in all shapes
to receive love.