Mother’s notes

I see history’s pages from life and death, diary notes brimming with a city left, thoughts of a garden swing ,in letters crawling like live ants out of them carrying spirit messages of all things being nothings ,nothings that encompass us over time, in a space of our house.

Here is a window to noise of crackers bursting in light, bottles that send sounds from their mouth in dark sky ,darkness that pervades the corners of the world, light ,in colored crackers,the festival of lights, a defeat of evil. That is all that is to it in earthen lamps, burning at the door some powder sprinkled on flames , smelling nice incense, some fruit pieces going around celebrating light on earth.

Her notes make out a hole in space, as a piece of time , a hole in eternity, a hole in mind, a gaping hole in time. Her letters crawl, rounded like black ants, out of pages flowing with life , with death, with my living , with hers.