DANCE OF THE POSSESSED

My feet move on their own

to the beat of the music

The drums beat a slow beat...

then faster, faster!!

My body sways

to the rhythm - 

my feet out of control;

my head rotating

hair flying!!

I throw my hands in the air

and dance with abandon,

hopping from one foot to another

faster and faster

till I am nothing but a blur...

The drums pause...

and started a slower

rhythmic staccato

and I fall forward and backward

in keeping;

forward, backward

forward, backward

 the drums are still -

and I stop.

A slow beat echoing...

rising to a crescendo

I swirl and swirl

my skirts awhirl!!

The drums are now distant

a rhythmic staccato

echoing, insistent

picking up speed

the beat...

I lie there

motionless and still.

YOUR WEDDING DAY MY LOVE

Counting raindrops on the windowpane

Was it my tears that blurred?

Ticking seconds and my heartbeat

Count...

Now it’s the day

Now it’s the hour

Now it’s the morn

Now it’s the noon

Now it’s the even

Now it’s the night

of Celebrations.

Now all is still

In the dark hour

As you lose yourself in her

Lost to me - forever.

LET ME IN...

Let me into the realm of your thoughts
Beyond the spoken
And the felt
Till I merge into the magnitude of your silence.

Let me into the coolness of your touch
A thousand births and deaths
Being baptized again and again
Till my name is lost in yours.

Let me into your songs of triumph
And your dirges of sorrow
Looking at the world from a cliff
Till I laugh and cry only with you.

Let me into the beat of your heart
Your breath, your warmth
Your proof of a life lived
Till my river of thoughts flow into your ocean.

Let me in on that spark in your being
That exists in no-man's land
That ignites a spark in mine

Let me into your soul...

FOREVER MY LOVE

Life has been some milestones -

A wayside bar

Of discreet legal permits

So out of the way

In one long, dreary dark night

That flies by

In fearsome silhouettes

Of shady pasts.

Drawing shades

Over my present

Lest it shows -

this ugly mark

of chronic hurt

on a psyche

that once knew love.

Now centuries old

My love

And written on yellow parched paper

That I store so preciously

in a steel trunk

With silks that break to the touch.

My gnarled hands

I note

Are still pretty

As is the shape of my nose.

This swirling mist will soon clear

And you will know

that even after all these years

I still stand by the doorway

Looking inward

At the exquisite designs

You once wove

In lighter and darker shades

Over the

transparency of my soul.

THEIR CITIES

Their cities appeared on the map

She looked at his forehead and said
"The people in your city are intelligent."
He looked at her hands and said,
"Your city is clean and small!"
She looked in his eyes and said,
"A fresh breeze blows through your city"
He looked at her hair and said,
"There's a lovely river in yours."
She drew in her breath at his smile and asked,
"Why are the people in your city so happy?"
He watched her as she walked and said, 
"Deer prance in your city."
She walked into his arms and said,
"You city is very warm."
He held her close and said,
"There are flowers in your city."
She closed her eyes and said,
"Evenings come too soon in your city."
He closed his eyes and said,
"There's a lullaby in yours."
When it was time to leave, she said,
"I wish I could come to your city."
And he replied, 
"I wish I could come to yours."

Their cities disappeared from the map.

ARE WE?

Not that I want answers
to a relationship 
that seems to flex 
to meet our erratic selves -
so moody and unpredictable
so based on imperfection -
but our sidelong glances ask
are we the ones?
Are we cosy bed, pillows and sheets?
Are we cuddle, kiss, curl and sleep?
Will you wipe the dishes while i wash?
Roll out the dough while i flip?
Peeping over my shoulders - 
our quadrupled vision.
Will it be our laughter that will break the silence
of a dark night, startling the owl
and drawing stars closer?
I won’t let the outside world in -
will you?
I can’t walk away - 
can you?
At will, I ask you:
will we be the ones?
‘cause right now, as we are,

our fingers barely touching - 
a relationship on a shoestring budget
of superficial small talk
skimming surfaces...
How far must we go before we know
we're forever?

I AM GANGA

Where Ganga meets Yamuna

Confluence or conflict?

Conflict I say, Yamuna so calm

And Ganga – raging!

I am Ganga.

Sunlight and breeze

and tornado at times.

Don’t try to own me

Just feel…enjoy…

Till I decide to whip you along

Into my whirlpool - 

Your calm, meditative ways

And common sense

And cool demeanour

A part now

Of the raging, rolling torrent

That I am!