Exclamations in the end: A poem 

Can you see me through the heatwaves 

like I was a mirage 

I am a landscape with many caves 

secrets hiding under the visage 

There seems a riot in my enclaves 

but such a low-key message 

so much turns, so much churns  

My patient flame still burns 

I keep believing in couriers though 

coming with much-anticipated letters 

I haven’t yet shut my door, 

even as I cradle the fetters, 

For I can feel the dawn in my eyes… 

my toes turning to butterflies 

My blood vessels don’t singe with lamentations 

I know question marks will end in exclamations