love
is an oasis you say... or does our thirst play tricks on us? surfing through channels of thought I tune into the lingering memory of mother's favourite saris she lights the bronze lamp each morning a new day for mother to love her Goddess, all over again a hundred lies just to cover the first his conscience allowed him to say my family wept over our dog's death I weep for those days I grudged him his early morning walk draped in fragrance the jasmine withers . . . my breath through the flute, cherishes each note as it fades autumn fields a fork in the road widening our shadows even farther worn out sandals the cobbler finds them difficult to mend and I find them hard to discard rain in the city unrelenting through the long night my life hangs on your laboured breath laughing over old stories... suddenly I feel that mother is young again for eons, waves have danced the pebbles to perfection . . . still it’s the sand between my fingers that leaves me spellbound it is possible I tell myself to feel the depth of the sky from within me... |
The writer of this series tanka is Kala Ramesh. I have never heard of this poet before until my English teacher introduces it to me. He thought I would like the turn on the third sentence of every stanza, and I actually really do. Merry Christmas everyone!
