The moon

Every year she looked at the moon
    through the sieve....

Every year he looked at the moon
       through his words....

Both celebrated the very thing
         From afar....

June Tree

A thousand years
            a thousand fears
                     a thousand tears
                           we shed
         for each other,

    Like moth
                  to flame,
                       a deadly game,
        lost children
                   looking
                for their mother,
      and when hearts sing,
            the music brings
          magic
             like no other.

         The winter cold
                no hands to hold,
The summer
     brief
            and sunny,
and in the mornings,
pressed
      close to you,
          cherished moments,
      tender, loving,
             funny,
We danced,
        We laughed,
We flew,
           We grew,
We dared,
            We cared
more than any soul
           could know
                  or reason,
  the light so bright,
              the fit so right
      for a hundred
                  precious
                            seasons.
The moth
          The flame
                   The dance
              The same
Then broken wings
    and treasured things
           in pieces
  all around us,
              the dream
the only one
    I long for,
here or there,
    our souls
        laid bare,
a million years for now,
     My heart
                 Will
                      Ever
                             Hold you! !

Distance

I love the light that enter your eyes
When they think of the gold sky
The little gestures you make
The silent smile that slips onto your face....

When you realise I'm listening
Even if I'm far away.....!!

Untitled

I thought  heartache at this age was impossible.
Then I realised that pain was never out of fashion.

Do I remember?

I remember in no particular order
* a shiny teary cheek
* animated voices of children from the next room
*the dubious acknowledgement of "I will also always love you"
*the call wait from the hospital informing my mother wasn't too well.
*the courage that suddenly crept inside me...yes I could end it.

This last isn't something I actually saw but what you end up remembering isn't always the same as what you have witnessed.

We live in time..it holds us..but I could never understand it very well. I mean ordinary everyday time ..which clocks assure us goes regularly.  Yet it takes only the smallest pleasure or pain to teach us time's malleability.  Some emotions speed it up , others slow it up -until the eventual point when it really does go missing. ..never to return.  I'm not very interested in what really happened and don't feel any nostalgia for them. Because we all suffer damage one way or another.

How do we react to damage..do we admit it or repress it. For me the damage was predictable. .yet I couldn't fathom it. I was too immersed in good times . Now after a year I feel that pain did not last long ..for I have a certain instinct for self preservation.
After all we all get towards the end of life ..no not life itself but of something else..the end of any likelihood of change in that life . We all are allowed a long moment of pause , time enough to ask questions : What else have I done wrong?
There is accumulation.  There is res ponsibility ..beyond that there is unrest.

Healing

To be held
By you
Was what I wanted
Like a tree drinking the rain
No longer parched in this Eastern land.
To have roots in my womb growing
But also to be sheltering the inborn leaves
And the green slide of happiness
Down the immense distances
Into infinite comfort.
But the land here,only clay
Still contains and consumes
The thirsty needs
The way a tree always shelters the
Unborn life.

Waiting for the healing
After the storm
Which has been our life.

Three

* Be the poetic pause for all the words I lost
    Let's make a silent symphony of disaster.

* I am a plot without a story
    A winner without the victory
    A poem without words
    An enchantress in mystery.

* I have noises in my head
   Buried under the memories I dread
   I am  longing for your whispers.

You left a hole in my heart

There's a hole in my heart
You know, the one you  left there...

There's a hole in my heart
That you helped me carve
And its at war with my soul
Over possession of my spirit
It  wants  to take me
& take me alive.

There's a hole in my heart
That was once filled with fairy tale endings
And recklessly constructed dreams..
Its a reminder to me
That nothing is as it seems
And real life is filled with villains
And my only hope for a hero ....is ME!!

When I LOOK BEHIND

The year  rolled in like any other . Much like pieces of flotsam, my thoughts

And emotions floated  all over the place , skimming , attaching and detaching from

Things , people and  experiences. I was dependent on these pieces for happiness

And peace of mind.

And then my entire world was encompassed by a renewed connect. I walked

Into this with measured steps. Taking a step forward and two behind. But

Then who has ever walked into love with caution. Slowly and surely every

Waking thought was focussed on that one person I connected to. Every emotion

Cried out to be shared and every moment sought that special connect. In midst

Of happier and not so happier moments the bond and dependence grew.

 I know I have sugar coated and pushed to the bottom a lot

Of realities. Am I living an illusion, choosing to skim over the sootier

Bits. I don’t have an answer. But I can count my blessings for being

Blessed and lucky. How many of us get to be loved like me. I now

Know divinity. And I can say without a doubt that this has been

My best year so far. And so as my car snakes through the traffic

To reach the venue  and I wait for another year to go by.

The tale of two chipkoos

They called each other chipkoo, despite the distance, difference, difficulties etc etc.

They fell in love without knowing a single thing about each other...his words were magnetic enough to  draw them closer and closer..so close that now they speak together , think alike and sometimes end up doing things unknowingly together. They are imperfect in all possible ways but these imperfections become attractive because they makethem their strength.

Conversations were lyrics and laughter their music and intense yearnings made their compositions so beautiful that they could never go stale.

When they met...they became chipkoos in true sense...the walked hand in hand...stealing a kiss here...grabbing a hug there....so immersed that the world ceased to exist for them.

They would sing songs ...recite poems....talk about poets and listen to music ...each inculcating the other silently into his own world.

She would keep listening to him and his words in admiration and immense pride in her heart...he was after all her love...it made her a beautiful woman.  So she tried in her own way to be worthy of him.

He on the other hand thought her to be his wealth ....he called her so too...he had a very special way of making her feel loved .

This is how they went on loving each other. .

So how do I now end my tale? Do I give them a happily ever after end or do I give them a tragic end? Im not sure...my pair of chipkoos are different. ..because no matter how or what the end may be...they will remain chipkoos forever.