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The one umbrella I give her
and get drenched in the rain.

My eyes are not dry
as rain bathes my eyelashes
makes me cry in joy.

I'm happy she's not wet
as it pours on pitter patter
pitter patter.

In the rain I find the might of love
and in the music of the pour
I hear my heart burning
in the light of sound.
With her in the rain, morning Aug 2 2024 on way to school.
Indebted to Nat Lipstadt for his inspiration against my comments on his poem "What is a soundless Sound".
we know each other better than we know ourselves...
It’s not what
you’re called
But what
you answer to

Your true
voice inside
As questions
renew

It’s not what
you say
But what
you mean

Spoken in
whispers
The truth
— never screams

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)
Is a heck of a person,
Too much of everything.
She eats too much,
She cries too much,
She laughs too much,
She exercises too much,
She shows too much kindness.
Her too much roots are deep in me,
And will stay there forever.
29/8/2024
have a credit in your account at the
First NATional City Bank.

Some free advice:

Spend it unwisely, with reckless abandon!
If you do, the credit balance will irregularly and improbably be increased in recognition of
additions to the sadly diminishing stock of
beauty, kindness, and the essences of humanity or some other derivative
thereof,
but  by

Writing more poetry,
one of my first jobs after school was with a large , mega-corp.,
now know as Citicorp,
and prior to that as Citibank,
with thousands upon thousands employees,
and before that as
First National City Bank

imagine my surprise when a letter addressed to
First NATional Bsnk addressed that way to my
(actual, physicals inbox & yup they existed);
Someone in our huge mailroom
decided that it was meant for me!

I was rechristened with the
nicknamed
“City Nat”
(which is how I answered when picking up the phone in our
bond trading room:

Years later at Goldman Sachs,
with 20,000 employees (back then)
called the general operator,
asked for Nat?
and without hesi,
was transferred
to me

now  I ain’t saying if you had asked for Natty or
Lippy,
but we’ll never ever know..
the cage that I am in
is made of fear

you turn your head away
I am still here

and in the night
I bet you hear me scream

I bet you feel my terror
when you dream

I am your shadow
I am here to stay

I am you
I will never go away

LET ME OUT

let me fly
let me be free

I will not rest
until I find the key
~
Precious Padma
You dearest aquatic flower
You grew in murky waters
Unblemished by its impurity
But come they did
To ****** your petals
And leave you a burning stem
Never can they take from you
The spirit of your plainsong
It continues to grow in your sisters
And in a time and season so near
They will sing your hymn
As one substantial voice
The changing winds will then
Lift it higher

~
On Thursday, December 5, 2019, a 23-year-old **** victim from Unnao, India was seized by five men, including the two people she had named in her previous complaint to the police, and beaten, stabbed and set on fire. Still ablaze, she walked nearly a mile, seeking help before finally calling the police herself. She later died in a New Delhi hospital, prompting protests of violence against women.
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠,
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠
𝐼𝑛 𝑔𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑓...
𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑡ℎ
𝐼 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛;
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟'𝑠 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑡ℎ
𝑊𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑒;
𝑂ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟'𝑠 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛
𝐻𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑎...
𝑊ℎ𝑜 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢?
𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖
𝑊𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑠ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑑
𝐼𝑛 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠...
𝑊ℎ𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑑𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔?!
𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛
𝑀𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑠ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑑...
و يديك،
إنها زنبق...
في شجن*
سأتحول إلى اللون الأخضر
في يقين قميصك
وكان يقين قميص الأم أزرق اللون
حديقة زهور الأم،
لديها زهور البتونيا؛
من أنت؟
بأني أرتدي كفناً
في معرفة عينيك؛
لماذا تموت زهوري؟!
عندما تلبس يدي كفناً....
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