17) I walked in a dark room

I walked in the dark room

Where she used to be

Where the lights used to be

Where laughters and tea and hugs

And endless hours of conversation

Used to be

I watched her presence stir silently in the room

Like a cluster of falling leaves;

Brushing past the walls

That contained the mighty depths

Of our mutual memories;

Brushing past me

I felt her warmth.

I tried to find

Traces of her presence

In her coffee mug, always hot now cold

In flowers that nod heavily with blooms

Now dead

In empty glass jars

She loved and collected and polished everyday

Now shone a dusky light

In slats and poles

Lying clumsily in her balcony

Waiting for the next craft project

I find traces of her

Traces that will never make whole

Now.

- Naychi

Late 2018

Yangon

#17