इस मोड़पे मैं क्या करूँ?
छोड़ दूँ तुम्हें या बाँध लूँ?
इस तन में तन्हा उधार है
आखिर जीवन से कैसे जुदा रहूँ?

Lotus

I feel you
in the depths
of my womb,
a stirring of new life,
soft contours of mud
dissolving into water,
bubbles rising up
and popping,
before they reach
the skin
of upturned green palms
holding the immensity
of the sky
in their bosom,
ripples leaving
without returning home,
as fire sits with fire,
burning away the dross,
and somewhere
in those murky silent depths,
a lotus blooms quietly,
turned on by her solitude,
parting her folds
with the gentlest touch
of the first morning sun.

Heading Home

I wonder what it was
that drew me to you,
and away from you....
was it the sudden expanse
of stark wilderness,
of wind-sheared mountains
against bald brown,green and blue;
or was it the sheer uncertainty
and hard compassion
of fast-changing tides of wind and water;
or was it the simple innocence
of a black and white life,
where every dimple and blob
breathed fire and ice;
or was it the ever-growing mystery
of virgin depths and shrouded heights,
of limpid morns and surreal nights;
what was it I wonder,
that took me in,
that made me stand unfazed
against the slanting rain
and powdered ice,
or the blood-curdling winds
and the veiled wintry sun,
without a cover or name -
a faceless face in a paltry crowd,
where everything
felt warm and safe,
where suddenly an island
transformed into a continent,
that grew wings and feet and arms
from closing waters,
rising and falling
with the wisps of clouds,
singing the soulful song
of wild geese
heading home -
a place where I can return,
so I can leave and live,
another life, in another world,
just another place
to rest awhile,
where fire meets ice,
where days meet nights,
where black meets white,
where will meets longing,
where fear meets love, and
where life meets death,
so I can be born
all over again,
and again.

Come, Be a Mountain!

and Life said to me:
"Be a mountain!
come, take your place
between the heavens
and the earth,
for you are not alone;
come, stay where you are,
for in that space of being,
you will find your place
in the family of all things;
yes, you cannot move at will,
but that's why you can grow roots
into yourself and a landscape
that's ever-changing -
where rivers meander off
like prodigal sons
never to return to your folds,
where birds arrive and depart
like restless pilgrims
always in search of something,
where trees rise and fall
with every wobble
of the slowly turning wheels,
where paths and trails
cut into your very soul -
those that you'll never walk on,
where men and women come
to conquer a mystery
and flaunt their valour,
only to end up exploring and discovering
their own smaller and larger selves;
come, dear one,
be a mountain!
and rest in the stillness 
of all that is,
and all that will ever be."

The Way

and I watch them go,
as I watch the waves
parting
from the stolid shore,
knowing that they leave
but not knowing
when they will return
in another form,
revealing the ground
that appears
for me to walk on now,
as I take the next step,
only the next one,
into the emptiness
of walking with myself,
alone.

One Voice

sometimes I feel
I'm standing alone
along the edge
of a still river,
calling out to you
across the void,
where one voice
becomes
an illusory two,
bouncing off
the jagged edges
of an expressionless cliff,
drowning the longing
to meet another voice,
in the silence
between me and you.

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.

Renewal

to listen
to the forest
is my homecoming -
building bridges
to a forgotten place
within
that breathes
silence.
solitude.
stillness.

I come to take
a part of you
back with me,
and instead
you give me back
my whole self,
in one piece.

the forest
is where
furtive thoughts
quieten
like a tired child
hushed to sleep
by a silent lullaby;
it is where
a broken heart
gathers
its scattered shards,
coming together
as one mural;

it is where
trees sculpt
ancient stories
and whisper them
to the distant sky,
brushed by silence
dripping slowly
over their changing canvas;
a renewal
of faith -
the artist's way.
 

Solitude

a lone stone bench
by a gushing stream,
clumps of thorny bamboo
by slowly arching trees,
solitude rests
in herself -
not waiting
to be filled
by an emptiness
or a fullness,
a becoming
or a dying,
an ebbing
or a rising,
Solitude -
she simply is.

If you see a wildflower...

if you see a wildflower
by a hidden mountain trail,
would you stop by to listen
to her thousand tales?
would you stand by
to just gaze, and
drink in her simplicity,
or would you hold
a secret wish to be her -
wild, free, yet ordinary?
would you care
to pick her up, and give her
to someone you love?
would you be inspired to press her
between the warm pages
of a book you love?
if you see a wildflower
upon a mountain top -
know that she has dreams too,
to love, and to be loved.

Solitude

a lonely mountain
has no place
she can go,
no way
to move around,
no one
to call her own;
her eyes
upon the valley,
growing,
glowing
in her folds,
her heart
in the gushing river
dancing and
wandering forth;
her strength
lies in her
stillness,
being herself,
and alone;
waiting
for her friends -
the pilgrims,
the clouds,
the mist, and
the song birds.

खामोशी और हलचल

खुला हुआ आसमान,
फैला हआ समुन्दर,
छाये हुए बादल,
तड़पती हुई धरती,,
सब मे एक खामोशी है,
सब मे एक हलचल है;
मै देख़ती हू
अपने दिल से तो,
सब मे एक खुशी भ्ररी
सूनापन है,
जो मेरे दिल से कह्ता है
"ज़्ररा ठह्ररो उस सूनापन मे,
उस मे खो जाओ ,
चक  दे उसको एक बार,
और लूट लो उसका मज़ा";
खामोशी मे भी हलचल है,
हलचल मे भी खामोशी है,
जब दिल मे सूनापन छा जाता है,
तो सारे रङ्ग निकलते है -
वो आसमान, वो बादल,
वो समुन्दर, वो धरती,
सब खिलने लगते है,
खामोशी और हलचल
मिलने लगते है