touch upon a word

let me reach out
and touch upon a word…

a word that lets you share
that which i feel

But fails to tell

how it scars the soul

why should you not know how it feels?

bitter tears shared have a sweetness all of their own…

and however Love may be praised

it too grows jealous
of not being felt the same by all.

A Selection of the background score to the movie “Azaghi” by Ilayaraja

2012

Covid Days II

A large, peppery squirrel does its acrobatics.

Jumping from Fir to Oak to Elm

Into the precarious mulberry.

He catches my eye

But does not freeze,

Does not scamper away.

His bushy tail twitches

Intermittently.

He chews along the whole length

Of a woody stick

And tosses it carelessly aside.

He bends and twists

Wrenching off

Another reedy limb.

He pauses,

glances at me

and decidedly

holds his twig

A little tighter.

Covid Days

Covid days

Of window watching.

Spying on the
Bright, loud feathers

Flitting at ease

Uncautious abandon.

Clear, shrill chirps

Birdly Antakshari

Echoing in the fresh, crisp,

Unfettered air.

{×}{×}{×}{×}{×}{×}{×}{×}{×}{×}{×}{×}

*Antakshari (un-taak-sha-ree) is a game of singing songs where the verse/word/letter/sound you end your song off with is the word the next person starts with.

let me live my life as a leaf

let me live my life as a leaf.
let me lift and leave as they do.
they beg not to let go of limb…
but they go nevertheless, their greeness outgrown.
their brightness only crumbling to rustling brown bits
as i watch whether trampler will rake them back to me…
they do not stay as i do.
i alone cannot bear for each of them to go.
leaving me so bare and barren once more.
let eternal winter slay me through once.
lashes no more, no one hears my white muffled cries.
crack me in two and be done with your icy touch.
let not Spring come again with her adornments,
they mean nothing to me no more.
Sultry Summer with her,
blush of petit sweet offerings.
my bitterness ever taints them…
carressing eyes yet shriveling tongues.
etch not your beloveds upon me…
i promise your parting,
under my very boughs.

spring’s herald

Spring’s feathered herald

pecks furtively at the frozen’d ground

urging worms far nestled below

who refuse to venture out

and greet the bitter rain.

His red-dulled breast

heavy-drenched

with water disguised as ice.

II

She found last night

among the howling winds

that her chickling

had become an egg once more

curled into a downy, frail ball

yet no more warm

now more silent than ever.

III

Two quivering robins

huddle over their branch-bare nest

their warbles lost in the pelting hail

not a peep escapes from their hatchlings.

2012

the outside world

the outside world
was too caught up
in its
tossing and turning
whirling and churning

the suspended droplets
swam hurriedly into rivulets

many arms
tossed between them
a head

many arms
held a woman
possessed

and so the shadow play of the wind persisted
the trees erratically moving to a music
not heard but seen

in that frenzied chill
of time
Sleep escaped
and Peace retreated
and Thought
imagined
things that
had yet to
happen
but determined
that they would.

two little saplings

two little saplings

their limbs cannot hear
each others’ leaves rustling
shushes of sweet nothings
they only feel the soft caress of whispered wants

their leaves cannot see
how with each season
the branches reach, yearning towards them
they only feel a newborn tendril’s touch

their hearts enclosed in trunk
spread out their rooted love
and rejoice
when they taste
the same rain
and bask in the same warmth

two old gnarled trees
know of a love
they feel it within
beyond what they know

but they know.

dear mother

Dear mother
why do you shun me so?
you overwhelm me with your tears.
you push me away with innumerable whispers.
you make me tremble
until i am all but lost of my senses.
Poisoned you make me when you are ill.

The hunters have come, yet have not gone;
they are too strong to merely hide.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It is we who have embittered our thirst.
Ingest all with a questioning.
Hear all with selective hesitation.

It is only when my brothers richly run away
That they became damned.
It is only when my sisters don’t give way
that they became mined.

Mother you are my Eden
that is why i strive to perfect you.

Do not forsake your mercy,
My own mother,
For we will only take what you cannot hide.