Yesha Shah
Nyctophilia
during one of those sleep-elusive nights void of comfort, you carve a square, silver portal through the wall with the tip of your index finger and plunge into the beckoning darkness. . . hitching a ride on a half-spent raincloud that’s strayed into an uncharted territory and hopping off near some lake, whose name is of no consequence but the serenity seems inviting. you gaze at its unrippled surface, reflecting a part of the starry sky that the shape-shifting clouds have not covered.
red lightning the letters you write and burn
from your pocket you pull a bunch of crisp colourful papers and fold them into little paper boats, setting them afloat one by one. knowing, in the darkness, they will sail home.
morning star the flutter of a dream on your eyelids
About the Author
Yesha Shah has been writing haikai poetry for over six years now. Haibun is specifically the genre she loves experimenting in. Her works have found homes in online and print journals and anthologies. She’s a Pushcart prize nominee for her haibun “Quicksand.”