My Best Face
Here’s
the face I created just for you.
It
wasn't made in my mother's womb
but
built instead, by tides of life
the
way banks of silt and sand are made
at
the end of a lonely beach.
A
soft-cushion face
that
absorbs dismantling
yet
stays in shape -
this
face is a face saver.
Almost
a rose without thorns
a
sponge soaked in water
a
squirrel face
that
hoards tears for later.
Oval
neat satin
swab
for wounds
unnecessary
to be admired in the mirror
for
the mirror shows nothing of the soul.
Sometimes
I stumble over
the
alien floor of my cheeks
slip
on all the marble
skid
on cold granite.
But
when I recall the number of dawns
it
took to sculpt this mask
the
sum of shoulder-straightening resolves
it
took to put it in place
I
hold my chin up.
My
journeys have ended on my cheekbones.
Each Other's Company
Lead
me to where I need to go
A
land of peace, a piece of land
Earth's
free schooling in trees and water
A
sanctuary of flora and fauna.
No
more the hamster running in a treadmill
resorting
to trickery just to appear accomplished
frantically
covering all bases, to be everywhere
and later,
cowering in a corner...
asking
why do I cast my pearls before a swine?
I'd
rather openly be a novice
fallible...prone
to making mistakes
I'd
rather be myself no matter what
before
my ruptured tears start.
In
a world filled with men, how can that ever be?
Men
don't allow a woman's inner self to surface
They
draw penis lines of yeses and no s
and
turn women into shrews.
I
don't want to end up as a tumour tale
pelting
angry stones at the trees I love.
When
spring carves blossoms in my yard
I
don't want to sit crocheting bones of pain.
Give
me a life of inclusion, my love
my
partner, my friend.
Let
us succumb together to the allures of a peony
our
brows lush with a lust for togetherness.
Let
our sun be tart, our rain floral, it's pollen perfumed
Our
voices one when put to the monsoons
Our
eyes - let them be audacious silver boudoirs
Twin
masquerades of wicked joy.
If
I want anything then that is what I want
Fathers are like
Autumn Trees
reflecting
gentle autumn warmth
in
every strand.
and
daughters, their ferruginous leaves
little
boats sailing on gentle waves.
If
you stepped inside a father’s heart,
a
warm autumn equinox would bathe your feet.
When
valencies of seasons turn leaves to gold
cause
green bowers to blush a bright red
trees
hug the aching earth
and
sigh softly as they let go of their bounty.
The
burly barks
pepper
silence with stoic breaths.
They
bear the brunt of seasons - Fathers.
******
Sufi
Tonight
I’m as broken as the night.
Is
that a dead bird in the bush?
Is
it just a shadow?
Is it anything?
Bring
all the tides
of
all the oceans
to my doorstep
so
that I may drown.
My hopes are full of
life:
they
don’t me die.
Take
the pitcher and drain this blackness
jug
by jug into the pond by the village
which
is dry anyway
it
won't mind my burdens.
Else,
someone
else might face
the
agony of these narrow labyrinths
that
make one pass through knots of water
and
blind the eyes.
Odyssey from Home
To Homelessness
Heads,
we’d stay in India, tails - Pakistan.
Tails.
So
we picked up a fistful of soil
and
left our country
carrying
in our palms
the
nonsense of emotions
when
they should have clutched at food
and
water for the journey of no return.
The
August monsoon
grated
into our wounds
and
poured like blood
from
ravaged skies
Our
breaths were tattooed blue
with
the ink of migration
memories
stung like bees.
The
ashen smoke of disownment
rising
from Partition ‘s pathetic fires
screened
our tears.
Our
bite-sized footsteps
measured
separation
with
a dysfunctional inch tape;
too
many fold marks
for
the road to straighten ever again.
Home was an empty caravan without scents.
Radcliffe's
pen turned out too strong
the
borders too gullible
dying
became easier than living.
Till
today we water the fistful of soil
we’d
brought along, every dawn
and
look for the slightest sign of roots
we’d
abandoned at the flip of a coin.
Voices Within Complete List of Poets :: Setu, January 2019
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