Sunday, June 28, 2015

Sunrise, With You

last night when I saw
your glowing face
in the darkness lit
by a small wick lamp
I didn't think
the sun would rise
and then I was dragged
upstairs
at the stroke of dawn
by the fresh, crisp air
of a summer morn
and birdsong resting
upon the ancient song
of all things in love -
rustling leaves
upon pin drop trees
birds from starbursts
with invisible trails
pioneering the skies
clouds streaking across
the wide open heavens
like inquisitive children
on a mission impossible
butterflies dancing
upon dew-kissed flowers
a garden lizard frozen
against the cracking wall
and a father and daughter
conversing
through the silent storm
raging within veins
of blood and love
touched by the rays
of a golden orb
and I saw
the sunrise, with you





Saturday, June 27, 2015

The Joker

sometimes
you hold my heart,
sometimes
you throw it away,
where do I belong?
I wonder,
will my love hold sway?
is there space
in this blessed world,
for all of me,
all the time?
well, the cards -
they've been dealt,
the game goes on,
and I,
I'm just a joker
in a pack of cards -
sometimes there,
sometimes gone.

Friday, June 26, 2015

Listen

have you ever heard
anything in your life
more wonderful
than the way
a little bird
opens her heart
to let the love
she's filled
in her hollow bones,
seep into the empty sky?

and have you ever stopped
and wondered
for just a moment
how her faintest song
from that distant tree
flows in
with the sunbeams,
in good faith,
through your frozen window
every day?

and I ask you
if you will stand there
silent and empty-handed,
or turn away -
too busy, too scared;
and if you would
care to listen
to the joy-filled song
of your own wounded heart,
so you can listen, to mine?

Broken Eyes

and I wondered why
we draw our hearts
with tireless passion
upon the shifting sands,
where busy waves
prowl and hunt
with every passing tide,
and then I remembered
the lion and deer
who simply join each other
for a little dance
under the neon stars,
and suddenly
everything seemed
just perfect
through my broken eyes.

Monday, June 22, 2015

Standing By Me

and I stand there
on the rumpled hearth
with no passers by,
no leaves, no flowers,
no fruits, no seeds,
no birds, no rain,
no fire, no breeze;
nothing to call my own
but my own barren self -
only dry roots
that still hold up
the parched hollow
of my throat,
and an upright spine
now rising
like a phoenix
from the moor.

Saturday, June 20, 2015

Falling Into Love

and I learned to walk
on tip-toes
on that thin white
frozen wall
holding the heavens
and the earth;
I couldn't dance,
I couldn't skip,
I couldn't glide
or jump up high,
and so I kept away
from the places where
the sleeping wall
was most thin,
too scared to fall
into the waters of love,
that would drown me
and help me bring
the heavens to the earth.


Friday, June 19, 2015

Majesty

and when you breathe
I hear the dark woods sing
under the exploding stars,
and when you smile
I see the dewdrops fall
like orbs upon sun-kissed flowers,
and when you move
I feel the silence of the cosmos
thunder through your every form,
for you are the wind, the fire,
the water, the earth,
the empty force
in the sacred song.

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

कुछ रिश्ते...

कुछ रिश्ते हैं ऐसे - 
फूलों का,
तारों का,
और अंधेरे में  
छोटी सी आँखें 
गुम हो जाने का  

Devotion

pour yourself
into everything
you feel, say or do -
not to fill yourself
or another,
but to be the river
that doesn't know
its fountain,
or the banks,
or the ocean,
and simply flows
to a call,
engraved in the palms
of the raised hand
of God.

Monday, June 15, 2015

Staying Close

sometimes I wonder
what is home?
is it the dark earth
that holds my roots,
and helped me once
to push my way out
for that lingering gaze
upon a blazing sun,
or the restful darkness
of a quiet, starry night?
what is home?
is it to wallow and curl up
in the blissful womb?
or is it to break open
the hardened shell
to birth myself?
or is it to grow tirelessly
out of my skin
over and over again?
what is home?
is it to know
that I can unearth myself
only when I am far away
or even when I am close?
or is it to know
that no matter where I go,
what I do,
or who I become,
I am always close,
I am always walking home,
I am always home.




Sunday, June 14, 2015

The Heart-Seller

The Heart Seller - Pic courtesy www.weheartit.com


some people say
I wear my heart
on my sleeve,
and I often wonder
how that's true;
do I wear my heart
like a pretty accessory
to beautify myself?
I asked,
and my heart said to me -
'no, that's not true!'
for all I do
is to carry my wares,
from one space to another,
sharing stories,
stoking fires,
looking at the stars
in the darkest void,
and weaving dreams together;
and so I walk around
with my basket of flowers,
gathered over many
seasons and climes, 
to rest in the shade
of an ancient tree,
the warmth of the sun,
or a menacing storm,
to open my wares
and sell my heart,
so I can touch yours
as I dip into
and touch mine.



This Morning




and she rose again
this morning,
forgiving herself
and her kin
for all trespasses
that brought
her and them
to life.

Friday, June 12, 2015

Dog Smiling

we stopped
under the shade
of a highway tree
to fill the hollows
of our bellies,
rumbling louder
with every passing car;
and then I saw you
lying listless
in the searing heat,
with a half smile
on your face, and
the pale white
of your stained skin
glowing like the presence
of a Zen monk
in meditation;
I found a discarded
palm-leaf plate
and heaped it with
fresh curd rice
from the cold steel box
of an entangled urban world,
where nothing was or came free;
and as if to feed my empty heart,
you raised yourself slowly
from the scorching earth
to take your share;
and then walked away,
blessing me
with a smile
that drew me
into your heart,
now beating
as mine.


Monday, June 8, 2015

What is your font of love?

in our eternal quest
for all that is
and is not love,
we often forget
that there is not one
but many fonts of love;
and we get to choose
the font we love,
to write our story
with love -
one letter,
one word,
one space,
at a time.

Thursday, June 4, 2015

While Walking

while walking,
sometimes
I feel held
between
the grass and stones
beneath my feet,
and the blue emptiness
that draws my winged heart
to itself;
and sometimes,
I feel held
by the warmth
of another human,
palm against palm,
between the grass and stones
beneath our feet,
and the blue emptiness
that draws our winged hearts
to itself,
while walking.

Step into the Darkness

and I step into the darkness
not looking for a light,
so I can touch and feel
the darkness
and myself,
and then,
quite suddenly
I touch my light.

Intimacy

and I go within,
so that when I come out
my roots become leaves,
flowers and fruits,
and wings.

Monday, June 1, 2015

Lies and Truth

one man's lie is another man's truth -
and so we often sink
into the murky waters
of 'live and let live',
in the hope that we can
finally resuscitate one another,
not realising
in that one
self-forgetting moment,
what it truly takes
to be breathing and alive
in this wonderful world.

Where do I Belong?

when I sometimes get tired
of being a messy human
day after endless day,
and I dip into the warm waters
of quiet solitude,
this question drops down
into the bed of my heart
like an anchor -
'where do I belong?'
and then a tiny bubble
rises ever so slowly
to kiss the glimmering ripples,
as if to say -
'be the longing',
and that just seems
perfectly okay.

Weather

looking out into
the blues and greys today,
there seems to be
a strange mix
of joy and sadness,
of quiet and creation,
of peace and longing,
of solitude and belonging,
and I wonder if my heart
and the skies and the ocean,
are having a little conversation
about the weather, together.