Crossing

The rail crossing
feels like a border
and in truth
we are not far from Pakistan
the red sandstone slabs
pillared in the sand
for fence posts
take on the ominous feel
of a grave yard
an eagle
serious as a coat of arms
sights down
his scimitar beak
and our presence is marked

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About Mikaela

I am an artist and writer living in the Perth Hills
This entry was posted in India, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

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