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
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.
painting the sky with your sighs
they stream along like clouds
streak the blue with your
saddened dark greys
and watch them
cry out
rain.
2012
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 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 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
Unseen clouds
race across the fields
their shadowy wisps
darken the skies.
Quickly colliding
bubbling, brewing
foaming, frothing
their sombre countenances
quiver with unshed anticipation.
Rolling, roiling, they rumble
silvering shards sparkle
heeding the silent pleas
of the
Unquenched
Earth.
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
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.
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.
intotheindigo 