Depression I

 

A black dog
Sleeping in a corner of my heart
sometimes
wakes up suddenly
Opens its eyes
In its eyes
there is tumult of ghosts
It barks
Without any purpose
In an empty room
With its shining eyes
With sharp teeth
It sows
the shadows of terror
within me.

The black dog
Is afraid of
the tip of brush in my hand,
the knife of words,
And all of a sudden
Watching
Lights shining
In the empty house
Imperceptibly vanishes
Through the window of darkness.

From ‘Maanind’