Sunday, April 28, 2013

happiness ...


I will call you for sure;
We shall meet again’ he promised...
 
In between the velvety folds
of those promises she built a house, long cherished.
And to live in an imaginary house is the best,
her house, built from the grit of memory
has no trial and no test. 

good to have a fantasy house with hopes and dreams so little,
as the walls of which bear no rhyme and not another riddle.
no expectations, nor fear in the mesh of other allusions,
longing neither to belong nor to search for meaning in this illusion. 

Resting under the painted ceiling out of which Images grow,
she feels happy as the walls cannot anymore smell of sorrow.
Not aching to make sense of the day or the night,
she doesnt weep any more, try as she might.
For she knows this is all there is, and this is so,
there’s no panic of an end, and no one to leave and go!

 

 

Sunday, April 7, 2013

an utter mistake


Her father did an utter mistake
of not holding her
of not carrying her on his shoulder
showing her the world.

And you too have done the same
of not binding her with the sacred thread
or a stained centre parting, the mistake
of not giving her someone to carry your name.
So she never learnt how to belong
She never felt home.
 

And she kept dreaming
of roaming in faraway places,
of the night sky
all alone,
her fists closing on strangers’ stories;
 

Now, often,
she becomes a kite, the string lifts her and
she flies.
She feels that she bears a river inside her
her hair floating like water-weed,
she lies still and listens
to the upsurge of a river within her,
the water rises, rippling in circles,
legs, waist, arms ... and
she paints a blue bird on her navel ... 


And she never learns to belong
she never learns home.

 
They made an utter mistake
Her father and you!