I remember your naked body
like it was yesterday,
bending about your bedroom, quiet as
drifting rose petals stripped straight out
of a summer sunset sky.

I remember our naked bodies,
touching in discovery, swimming oceans
between ourselves we never fathomed
into existence; never questioned out of it.
For the first time, I felt at home—at sea.
Innocence no longer played part.

After the crescendo, I saw the clock beside
us on your nightstand. I used it as an excuse.
"I really should leave, it's getting late," knowing
full and well that she could see right through it,
right through me. I lept through the doorway,
sparing a look back, parting with my shame.

I got home and ate pizza with my family.
My mother and father chuckled about a newscaster.
My brother and I bickered about housework.
I went to my room after dinner and collapsed on my bed.
I wept as my eyes surrendered to darkness.

I am lost at sea—and so is she.

The wood-burning fire
resembles a cusp of cloud
set ablaze by faith.

These lambent, sun-kissed roads
are strangers to me today
New and fresh with promise
they lead on as if to say -
walk with us silently
onwards to new dreams
bridge all these myriad distances,
break down these barriers
why must you stay fettered
when you can discover yourself?
is this what the universe has planned
or is it a spell you’ve cast?
that every happiness that heaven has
lies within my grasp?

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
  22.12.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

Have you been to Jerusalem, my friend?
Have you?
I must go there -
For I saw her in a dream there,
kneeling before the altar,
and smiling:
that same smile that lit my hovel
and made it a home;
And she vanished
into the smoke that night,
never found, never found!
She was the river that dried up
in the barren desert of my life.
But I saw her, I saw her,
she lives in Jerusalem.
Tell me, friend, have you been there?
How do I go there?

busy, busy are the shops
and everybody pours in
into the mall

Mom and daughter are shopping
and the debonair mom declares:
This year, this fur coat
is what I’m getting for Xmas!
We’ll come back tomorrow
with my credit card

But mom, says the conscientious daughter
this is not synthetic
Some poor creature must scream in pain
so you can wear this coat

Don’t worry, sweetie, says mom
*Your dad won’t get the statement
till 30 days from now