Tattered Dream

my tattered dream
like grasping cobweb
clings to lashes
stings my eyes

187

Night and Day

for few fleeting moments
they meet
in dying sunshine
falling shadow
for like night and day
they are destined
to be forever together
forever apart

186

Seeta

at the edge of the forest, she stands

where Lakshman's chariot has just left her,

her eyes speaking of  pain 

of a woman betrayed,

she, the one born of earth

beloved princess of Janak's kingdom

married to that epitome of virtue,

the Maryada Purushottam,

the king who could do no wrong,

she the one, who had loved him enough

to trade her palace for a jungle hut,

who had not forgotten him for a moment

in the captivity of the demon, Ravan,

I see her as she stands there

in her desolate destitution,

stripped of all but the life

she carries in her womb,

heirs to the man who abandoned her

for the sin of another man's lust,

I know then, no matter 

how many centuries have gone by

every woman born on the soil of this country

is cursed to carry

 the agony of this unhealed wound

 in her heart, forever

185

Birth Of My Poem

Birth Of A Poem
================

when words gather
like heavy rain clouds
and in the regions of my heart
I feel
fluttering wings of a restless flock
caught in the hunter's net
I know it is time
for my poem to be born

***
when clouds let go
and falling waters
meet the waiting patch of thirst,
ever so gently, the soil frees
fragrance of her satiation,
when in flurry of flight
a flock of pigeons
leaves the silence quivering
birthing of my poem
feels somewhat like this

184

incognito

unclaimed by my voice
abandoned by my lips
your name wanders incognito
in the silence of my blood 

183

Your Name

shunned by my lips

unclaimed by my voice

your name lives on
in the salt of my tears
in the warmth of my breath

in the silence of my blood

182

Be With Me

be with me

for I can no longer bear

false bartering of bright conversations

be with me

for only you can hear
words woven in my silence

181

Silence

she crumbles to dust
strong walls of words
and sweeps with firm hands
the debris of demolition
shorn of cleverness
stripped of subterfuge
I tremble in new born nakedness
as silence builds
her home in my heart

180

Draupadi

she comes to me
across the dust of many millenia
the woman born from the holy fire
of Drupad's yagnakunda
she, the dark hued one
beloved sister of Krishna,
precious wife of five
of the mightiest men in the land
she stands there, her hair loose, wet
stained crimson with the blood
of her oppressor, Dushashana,
she looks at me and I cannot bear
the burning agony of her gaze
I cannot bear the heat that seared
every pore of her desecrated body for years
no, she had not forgotten
she had not let anyone else forget,
the blaze of her insulted womanhood
had burnt to ashes numberless men
and had darkened the battlefield
of Kurukshetra with blood

~ Rwits
Remembering Jyoti Singh Pandey(Nirbhaya)

179

My Words

I sometimes wish
all the words I write for you
arising from my heart
would become a flock of birds
winging across the skies 
they would find your home
and with a great fluttering
alight on the rooftop
on the doorsteps
on the windowsills
and fill every corner of your home
with my songs

178

Silence

when the red sun of silence 
rose in the darkness of my heart
I became an empty house
doors thrown open
windows unshuttered
for the winds to play in
for the light to shine through
in the restless clamor of the world
a sanctuary of peace

177

He Just Was

I had seen him by the temple wall
the saffron robed man
for hours he sat, with open eyes
looking at everything, seeing nothing
saying nothing, doing nothing
in the stillness of his existence
in the silence of his being
like the tree, the rock
and the flowing river
he just was

176

Your Name

I left your name
on the desolate mountain top
I threw it to the wind
travelling to distant lands
I dropped it in the river
winding to the sea
I watched the fire
scorching it to ash
I tried so many ways
and yet I find
your name wandering in my heart
sobbing out my name

175