just one tear

just one tear

finds its way

crawling

to the call of a heart

steeped in love

exploding

into the vagaries

of this stillness

devouring

every thought 

of you.

the grief of being human

there is a grief
beyond
this utter wilderness
of loss

it is the grief
that I could not see you

I could not feel
beyond this veil
shrouding the truth

the truth of love
and of being human,
with you.

what you love

somewhere,
where right and wrong meet
and wage war,
is a battlefield
without words,
without weapons,
without laws,
without a cause;
where everything drops dead
to the ground,
where you stand
on all sides
as one,
taking the shape
of the arrow
of love,
simply
what you love. 

Raining Love

there was a time
when I was
too scared
of rain,
every drop
piercing me
like a single shard
of sharp glass,
tearing open
many hardened skins;

water became blood
flowing from
a stinging heart,
that knew not
how to dance
in the rain,

today,
when it rains,
my skins melt
like happy clay,
puddles form
and disappear,
trickles
become rivers,
then roaring rapids,
happy feet
do a little dance
to the pitter-patter,
a heart that's young
writes little love notes
on paper boats,
blotted by drops
that gave them a life,
laughter and tears
wash away
the sleepy silence,
and a heart
quietly remembers
how to love.

Without Reason

a sunset
is a sunset.
why make it
into a moonrise
that's on its way?
or a sunrise
that's passed on
into a finite day?

a sunset
is a sunset.

see me
for who I am.
feel me.
now.
not for who you thought I was.
not for who you want me to be.
love me.
through all seasons.
without comparison.
without reason.

Vignette

dressing her for the pyre
with a sari
that she would never wear
draping her tiny form,
a mother presses
the last round bindi
onto her baby's face,
whispering words
of love and loss,
for a life
taken away too soon;

a daughter draped
in red and white,
and a bindi
centered
between her brows,
lights her father's chest
with a handful of fire
torn from her burning gut,
and she whispers nothing;

a deathly silence
smudges the edges,
and deepens the colours
of a wordless void
etched in the ether -
of a mother,
a daughter,
their loss, and
an unbordered love.

Black Anger Rising

black anger
rising
from still ground,
no frills,
no flowers,
no camouflage,
no airs,
just an ashen skin,
white hot,
smooth and plain,
dusted
with the whiteness
of a heart
that knows
only one way
to love -
a ferocious love
that destroys
things with a shelf-life,
to recycle,
to create,
a timeless world
beyond life and love.

Black Mountain

and you drew me
with your steady,
one - pointed gaze,
into your spent bosom,
the blackness and stillness
of your stark eyes,
of your majestic form,
lit the pyre
of my wayward thoughts,
as I swallowed you
in one breath,
of fear and love,
with nowhere to hide
but in your barren folds,
now mine,
drinking in a love
that you do not give,
but help me find myself;
rising from the ashes
of long-dead logs
from other worlds,
the black goddess
comes alive
to kill with a love
for Black Mountain.

The Embrace

and I didn't quite know,
until you raised your arms
as your being smiled,
and circled the walls
of a crumbling bastion
I had held on to
for perhaps too long,
that the waters from
the womb of our eyes,
breaking into a swell,
as they met for a moment
in a timeless embrace
of water and earth,
fire and breath,
gave birth to
and held close,
the kiss of a new
unlived life.

Loving Me is Loving You

love me
like you would
love the moon,
waxing and waning
in your eyes,
that always remember
and hold
her fullness
in her impelling darkness
and radiant light;

love me
like you would
love a song,
holding the magic
of the words and the tune,
the canvas and strokes
of a heart
who knows only
how to paint herself
in everything around;

love me
like you would
those faraway clouds,
that come and go
in the vacant blue,
watching them go
where they want to,
in search of a stillness
that they can feel,
only as they move;

love me
like you would
love the earth,
who weaves the sensuous
into the ordinary,
touching everything
with a curiosity and warmth,
feeling the weight of herself
and everything in her
that she gives roots to;

love me
like you would
love a warrior,
fierce and passionate
about a cause
that makes her feel alive in her skin,
where a battle is won
not with a beating of chests,
but with the inexhaustible weapons
of trust, love and unshakable truth;

love me
like you would
love a rose
resting on a sun-drenched morn,
not to be plucked
or tucked away into a pretty vase,
but to be cherished
for her fragrance and gentleness
that you can feel
only when she is amid her thorns;

love me
like you would
love deep secrets,
enticing you into
the growing darkness
where all the adventure lies,
free-falling
into an uncomfortable openness,
just waiting to be unearthed;

love me
like you would
love the universe,
making space
for all that is living,
growing and dying
before your eyes,
spiraling into nothingness
and yet exploding
in a celebration of itself;

love me
like you would
love yourself,
for in that love,
you will include
not only me,
but one who is most valued,
and most cherished -
YOU!

Love

and I chase
and I grab
what cannot be held
in the narrow folds
of my palms,
but which slips
through the crevices
between
my restless fingers,
making space
for a largeness
and depth
that I can only
hope to feel
with my
beggarly fingertips.

Can You See Me?

can you see me,
not in the cards
I deal out
for all to see -
what's taken,
what's rejoiced,
what's abused,
or what's rejected,
but in the cards
I haven't played,
what I've singled out
and held close to me?

can you see me
as I am?
where the glory
and the gory
are friends,
not warmongers?

can you see me
as I am?
where your heart
meets mine,
for in that seeing
is a knowing
of all that is me,
not what you think
is me.

Roots

and so that
my intricate world
can entangle with yours,
my veins of blood
can mix with yours,
my fragile walls
can crumble with yours,
my engraved lines
can smudge with yours,
my restless thoughts
can dance with yours,
I grow roots
into your heart,
your soul,
so I can feed
and feel mine,
for what are surfaces
but depths
into the pain
of our being,
waiting to be met,
explored,
and loved.

Overflow

there was a time
when I was afraid
of fullness,
too scared to reach
the frontiers
of my emotions,
and the dark edges
of my fallible existence,
and so I would skirt the shores,
keeping away from the waves
rushing in excitedly
to sweep me off my feet,
and I would watch them
with feigned indifference,
from the safe rims
of my half-open eyes,
and dip my trembling toes
into the receding waters -
the easier part of the flow;

until that one moment
when I looked into the eyes
of a foaming wave,
running in to gather me in her arms,
filling me with a terrifying anticipation,
washing me over with her love,
and grinding me to a deathly pause
on the sands of uncertainty;
and in the quiet presence
of the firmament above,
my being rested among the waves,
as I was held in her endless dance
of arrivals and goodbyes,
of losses and renewals,
of belonging and abandonment,
of fullness and emptiness,
and I knew then
in that one blessed moment,
how to hold myself
as a brimming cup,
where parts of me took form,
from the brink of that fullness,
born from the overflow
of a love
that cannot be held back
but only given and shared,
with a world that thrives
on quiet unseen abundance.

Becoming Me

and when I'm not full,
like that mellow fruit
on a pregnant tree, 
I let you in -
to fill me,
to become
you in me,
dying to what I really am -
a soul that's not up for sale,
the harvest of a love
that cannot be demanded
or plundered,
but only given,
in quiet patience,
as the tree holds her fruit
and her wholesome shade,
for those who care enough
to stop by and relish her bounty,
and sit under her radiant boughs
that speak incessantly
to the sun, the earth
and the dark heavens,
singing songs of love
flowing from the fullness
of a heart that hears
the stirrings of the universe,
and what it takes
to let you be you,
and to 'become me'.

Skin to Skin, Heart to Heart

and when you speak,
I feel the world
come alive
under your skin,
throbbing
with the waves
that rise and fall
with my skin,
as I drop into
the silence
of uncharted depths,
drawing me through
their smudged creases,
now spiralling,
free falling,
into the abyss
of a love
that can be felt
only skin to skin,
heart to heart.

Take Away

take it all away -
everything that we
shared
enjoyed
lived
dreamed of
buried
left unsaid
created,
take it all away;
of course
you don't know
that when the sun
dips into the distance,
sinking into the
blue of my eyes,
my eyes bleed,
for your blood
is mixed with mine,
in the patience
of the vast emptiness
where everything is born,
where everything dies,
yet leaving themselves
in the hearts of things
that can never be taken away
but only left behind.

The Weavers

oh yes,
it was a dance -
of weavers spinning a web,
with the turn of the seasons,
the pull of the moon,
the song of the night,
the patterns of the day,
the dreams of the stars, and
the sowing and harvests
of entangled hearts;
but wait,
something's amiss now,
things seem to have changed,
the warp and the weft
no longer rest in the game;
threads have become knots
that cannot be undone,
but for a snip here and there,
the hearts still beat while they're lost,
but can never be found.

Walking on Knives

and I learn the art
of walking on knives,
where every prick
touches the folds
of a white rose,
opening herself up
to hold up my feet
with her thorns.

Somethings Are Just Far Away

somethings are just
far away,
the heart-shaped cloud
pinned to an orange sky,
the salt of the sea
from the darkening edge,
the giggling of stars
at a midnight feast,
the ravishing half moon
strolling upon a gentle breeze;
somethings are just
far away,
so they can be owned
but not smothered,
touched but not possessed,
journeyed with
but not arrived at;
just so
in the distance
between the longing
and the cherished,
the blues
deepen and seep
into the far edges,
lost in the light
of a world
that cannot be
seen or touched,
but only lived. 
somethings are just
far away.....