Our doubts rise
on the waves of a tempest,
on the great sleeves of wind,
on the towers of hope,
in the pulpits
where leaders preach.

Our doubts wear
a dress that looks
different from different sides;
it has folds, curls, and holds
the dirt and sweat
of our lives.

Our doubts speak
in the muteness of empty cities
where glass houses house
silicone dolls.
They are humps of haste
made of warm clothing
and narcissistic pride.

Copyright ©2007, Debashish Haar, All Rights Reserved