It has a slow beginning,
This new book I am reading
Though it’s not a riveting tale
I follow its dry, meandering trail
Boom! A twist in the plot. Gasp! No!
What happens next? I need to know…

I snap to attention, sit up straight
as I worry about our hero’s fate.
Will he prove his innocence to all?
Or will he give up and take the fall?
I turn the page and readjust my pillow.
What happens next? I need to know…

Another twist hits me out of the blue,
Our hero’s not the man I thought I knew!
His dark secret has finally been revealed.
Will he pay for his sins? Will he yield?
I’m down to the last fifty pages or so.
What happens next? I need to know!

Have faith; You must believe
what you are picks its way.
Through each setback you receive,
have faith. You must believe
there is nothing you can’t achieve.
Remember this if you begin to sway,
“Have faith – you must believe
what you are picks its way.”

I
itch to
peek beyond
the thick curtain
of my depression;
check if I have
some part of
myself
left.

Two lovers lost from each other
fell into deep despair;
parted after a brief embrace
after morning prayer.

They could not come together, yet  
were never far away.
Sundry errands kept them busy
with duties of the day.

Twice, they stole away to unite,
their compulsion was such.
Their agitated longing grew
with every glancing touch.

Evening brought with it a reprieve
from their despondent plight.
They rested peacefully at last,
entwined all through the night.

Bring back those summers
when all I did was read books
and snooze under the noisy fan;
**** on ice pops
until my lips went numb;
gorge on black jamuns,
rolling the pits over my tongue;
listen to the radio cycling
the same twelve songs…

It was all I did.
It was enough.

I still do the things I did then –
I read,
laze around
with my earphones on,
eat what I like,
and do whatever else I want.

Yet I can’t shake the restlessness –
It’s not enough.

Summer remains the same.
I am the one who has changed.

Incomplete beauty –
a photograph of a wave –
shadow memory.