WALKER

I walk distances that do
not exist on maps.

Sometimes, I surprise myself
by walking too far,
to a place where mountains
become giants and the sky
befriends the land.

But sometimes, my feet
go numbed. Neither could I
proceed nor retreat.

I squat next to a
dead cockroach, exposing
hairy feet to fluffy clouds.
Squashed shell and bursting guts.
It portrays the beauty of death.
It flips over its body with its last breath,
like an acrobat doing
stunning tricks in a circus.

Death! My neighbour – you tell
me it’s not about energy. It’s
all about fate when I’m
fixated at a spot,

like a
mashed insect, not able to
expand its map anymore.