When you sit swinging at every blink of my eyes.
The dark circles under sing the setting moon lullabies.
Free shadows of spring sunlight, and whispers in the corridors.
” I wish to never be alone”, says the Gardener in his mother tongue.
He pulls up hope in a tin can pouring over new buds, his whistles add sweetness to my ears.
that Mynah that sits under the banyan tree, sits on it today.
And sparrows picking at raw berries, flutter as I near them.
Wet grass pins at my feet, random flowers that mysteriously grew; falling from the paradise.
Here’s to my very own forest of life & death.
For I have failed many friends, those which never came back.
Though I waited, and I wait.
The woman in my house, with rags for clothes, dead faith that lives in the cracks of her lips.
And when she walks, her bunch of keys rattle her bottle of liquor she considers hidden. Her hands that pet rotis and light stoves, escape destiny and destroy hope.
Olive shaded walls of my home, frequently fall short of peace.
The ringing of bells from the latest exhibit, the tv making up for all those who were once before.
I raise the volume from 45 to 80,
All sorts of sacred prayers surround my very being.
I devour my pancakes and drain down coffee like religion itself.
shattered chandeliers bring me patterns of floating aspirations.
Sofa’s hold me any way I Can sit, while I forge some sleep, and fool my mind.
Rested i am not.
Empty i am.
My walls are so high, i only feel free at the top.
And sometimes think I’d like to fall.
when the waters from the shore mumble to me, “don’t fall for the charades.”
I stay put and cherish all the beauty.
At least, that’s what I think it is.
A passing wind slips from my hands, parting from every inch of my spine.
I plead, “take my heart with you.”
And so,
my heart beats in my rib cage,
But never at peace or in one place.
