The Warrior

don't pull out
your staggering sword,
don't work out
to the end of your breath,
don't carve your muscles
out of your porous skin,
to brandish and soak
in the blood of glory
flowing through your words;

for when you are spent
and return home,
from a battle
you thought you'd won;
you'll feel the longing
and the emptiness return,
your eyes brimming
with the softness
of withheld tears,
your skin smarting
from the raw tenderness
of old untended wounds,
your breath falling
like a forgotten coin
into the empty hollow within;

and then, you will know
how to hold
the love of your life,
in every step you take,
what battles you must
take on and fight,
and when to lay down
your arms with grace;
and you will know
you can pick up
the waiting chisel,
instead of a swiveling sword,
to carve your heart
upon the fiercest chest,
the true warrior
who is up, for every test.

दिल की लड़ाई

तलवार उठाओ!
न हाथों की ,
न आँखों की ,
पर सच्चे दिल की ,
जो धड़कती है
उस दुश्मन की खोज में,
जो छोड़ देती, उस दिल में,
अपने कुचले हुए दिल की खुश्बू ,
रोम रोम में

Samurai

and the wind asked the tree,
rooted between seasons -
which leaf would be
the next one to go;
and the leaves
they began to dance
and sing their swan song,
while the tree watched on
in a quiet celebration,
knowing it was time
for each warrior
to lay his life down
upon his sword.

The Silent Warrior

like the ripe old leaf
awaits her fall,
even as she twirls
with the wind
on a blind date;

like the obscure spider
creates her fragile art -
a labour of love,
as she waits to make
a tryst with destiny;

when you rest
in the peace
of deep knowing
that there is nothing
that you ought to do;

when you find love
in everything you do
and do not do;
a silent warrior is born,
to fight, with love.