Prayag

and when she touched me,
I remembered
the longing,
the pilgrimage
I've been on,
looking for that something
without a name,
until I reached
the prayag
of pain and joy,
where I dipped
my weary soul,
cleansing the pores
of a body
clogged by the grime
of unlived lives
and moments
too stubborn
to be washed away
by mundanities,
as if waiting
over lifetimes even
for her to walk in
and bless me
with the stillness
and Grace
of the gushing river
in her soft hands;
and I rested
in the womb
of a mother
I never had.

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.

Touch Me With Your Skin

peel off your mask,
it is not your skin;
it yearns
to feel the warmth
of a giving sun
through its every pore,
to breathe into the wind
that rushes through
stirring every cell awake,
to touch the moistness
of the holy mud
that embalms your spirit,
and to simply remember
how it feels
to touch another
with your human skin.

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.

Touch-me-not

touch me.

so I can cringe
and fold
into myself.

so I can remember
the pain
of not being touched.

touch me.

so I can touch
myself.

so I can open again.