A Dog Bite
-Bishnupada Sethi
You carried the bite—
a great strain in your stride.
She carried the echo,
a bruise blooming beneath her ribs.
You kept the bicycle's wheels turning—
classes, friends, the ordinary churn.
She let her world idle,
a sentinel at the campus edge.
Sun and shadow stretched;
she lingered, unnecessary,
watching the wound, your breath—
tasks your own hands could claim.
She refused the mercy of chance.
Miles away, she folded her hours
into a narrow cot,
a wobbly chair,
the hush of corridors.
Fields waited; calls rang unanswered—
a life paused mid-sentence.
Still she stayed.
This is the old covenant:
the universe tilts toward the cared-for.
You walk beneath a living shrine—
no incense, no marble,
only her vigil
circling the clock
like a quiet moon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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