tendrils of time
have tied us together
to places where none can find us.
Tonight reminds me
of every night with you
where the marching clocks took a halt
chirping crickets marking time froze
at the sound of what we said
I kept calendars
tucked in corners with your photographs
While the sun grew old
I forgot language and learning
lost in glances
you left behind for me…
I see the stars are drifting
farther from each other
in the loneliness of your eyes.
What stories of yours have I
not recited in my nights, to myself
and our unborn children.
Everything you whispered
along with winds breathing
between pines and gurgling streams
I hold inside
my cupped hands of conch shell.
In my tales,
You were here before
man learnt to measure time
as the sound of oceans,
Since wind came into being,
since waves knew restlessness,
since the tides followed the moon,
and oysters wept pearls.
Instead of footprints
he left his words behind.
On his back were found marks
of his fingers from all the times
he held himself too tight.
His mornings spent
in stitching back together
the remnants of his dreams.
His evenings reading poems aloud.
Somewhere between a dream
and a poem, he found time
to spend this life.
I want to be simple with you
my arms free as pages of a book
that you turn over
in a gentle winter
in a lazy abandon.
A fable so common,
it turns into a proverb, a song
so simple it’s a lullaby.
My body,a bare bone
of all the years
it has borne alone
clean, white ,pure light.
A skeleton of no secrets,
no lies ,no complications
no pretensions.
I want to be
autumn flowers at your feet
spring flowers on your lips.
I want to be the blue
skies of your childhood
expanding in front of your eyes.
Open, simple, vast, untainted and home.
Did you read about
the butterflies living inside
the eye of a woman and
feeding on her tears.
Well, that is all for today’s news.
And poetry.
Lets surprise ourselves here tonight.
Write things on a mirror with water for ink,let it dry in the ocean and stay unread until every drop evaporates.
Then you visit this planet, on the wings of a Gulzar song, like a metaphor , that is drops of rain a tree doesn’t want to let go of ,until shaken vigorously by a child with her tongue sticking out.
Visit the letters that reflect the loneliness of the skies. And when you find it difficult to gather even a single word between your lips, every alphabet remains beyond comprehension of your fingers.
Look close , look in this moment in time, I have written you already. I wrote you to meet you a million years later and an infinite dream after.
I wrote you in circles,at the beginning and end of time.
I wrote you, as I saw you and as you saw you at the same time.
The LAsT POSt BOX 