The sky descended down with her heavy veil of cloud lifted above her dark hair She brushed her lips against the earth and rose swiftly back in the air leaving behind the earth restless with lips parted
The sky descended down with her lips shaped as a ring to tickle the earth with her breath She whispered in her ear and watched her moan and blink the million leafy eyelashes that the world would trim
The sky descended down with her starlit fingers stretched brushing the palm of earth She held her hand firmly to fly her away, away from this world that was sleeping in the shade of her bridal veil.
There is a roof above me But it is too high to touch It is magical – it is chameleon It has so many dots They form so many patterns And the sky still looks empty It looks still. It is stuck in time.
I lowered my hand in the river Took the drops and aimed at those dots – Above and below the water. Only the water danced with my hand But it looks still. It is stuck in time.
These dots twinkle in the sky These dots twinkle beneath the river Each paired up with its reflection But they are still. They are stuck in time.
More beautiful than the gems The gems studded on His crown More lively than the firefly The fireflies dancing between the trees More in number than the water drops The water drops that fill the gap between these dots Shinier and brighter than the moon The moon that doesn’t come on certain nights More comfortable than my home The home that I shall leave upon my death So many souls inhabiting these dots But they are still. They are stuck in time.
And my eyes are stuck on the sky How long will it outplay this dead game? I turn my neck but I don’t lose There is a star flying in the sky Why the sky let me win? Or was it He flying the star? Was it He who fought the sky? Was it He who is dead but still alive? Now I am still. I am stuck in time.
My gaze still locked by the sky A gentle wind blows to bring life The water rises and falls to play some music I and the sky continue our dead game.
The wind wants me to give up It caresses my cheeks It wraps my curls around my eyes It blows against my eyelids It gets rougher, and now I struggle I can’t see the stars above – The wind is dancing I can’t see the stars beneath – The river is singing The wind tickles me The wind hurts me The wind makes me realize – I can choose to open and close my eyes, I am alive. I lie down on river bed My eyes are now closed The lullaby is sung by the breeze I fell asleep. I dream of a star – not for me But the one on which He lives And the stars – they must be shining. They look still. They are stuck in time.
PS- To every shooting star that I see, I pray that I could see you again. One last time.
Sitting next to you, my fingers playing with yours Every time you let go, mine feel empty and turn sore They start wriggling so they start to chase yours Entangled in yours is like a barefoot stroll along a shore
When they are near you, when they can catch you When they can kiss you, when they can enjoy you When they can talk to you, when they can drown in you They are then grateful because my eyes only want you
Wrapped in your arms – this desire is growing My heart can’t contain this passion overflowing My arms are longing for that embrace My heart listens to yours with no gaping space
I have a deadly disease, you are the only cure Every path leads to you, no matter what is the door A wild beast burning inside my chest Come and undress to caress it with your zest
married for eternity, yet haven’t danced together or sang songs for each other never used the phrase “I love you” but both knew it was hanging if not floating, in the air.
Their beds that were once one large bed, have a large silent musical gap in between on which the frayed blanket, torn in two, dances.
On his bed, he farts cause he doesn’t hear, she gorges even after burps cause he doesn’t hear He hates his hearing aid, now she can’t hear whispers cause she always yells. Still, he mutters- why does she whisper?
She answers his phone calls cause he doesn’t hear the loud ringtones or the hello from the other end. He complains- “My children have forgotten me, their children have forgotten me.” She yells that they all love him. She won’t say she loves him, cause he doesn’t hear.
No television, no internet but both are busy. Lost in his newspaper that he never lets her touch, a treasure he enshrines on his bedside dating from some random years. She stealthily takes a few away so that the pile won’t fall on him.
High blood sugar, swollen knees thinning hair, bags under eyes both sick in their beds. He makes her tea. His eyes on her face, getting restless when she isn’t around. He is scared that tomorrow when she’ll whisper his name, the way she does every day, he won’t be there.