Storytellers

storytellers we are;
writing stories
with fingers of water
on barren shores
of a restless ocean;
swept by fancies
of a roving wind

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Restless-1

nothing stops
not one moment
ever pauses
for me to grasp
in my covetous hands

and so no more
will I give them names
no more will I seek
to hold them close
sitting by the wayside
I will watch
the nomads on
their restless journey

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watching

nothing stops
not one moment
ever pauses
for me to grasp
in my covetous hands

and so no more
will I give them names
no more will I seek
to hold them close
sitting by the wayside
I will watch
the nomads on
their restless journey

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Dawn-2

pundits say
in blackness
of the hour before dawn
gods awaken 
and walk the earth
all mortal prayers
granted

and
in that very hour
sorrows restless
through the night
fall asleep
exhausted

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silence 2

silence swamps
swallowing words
turbulence finds
home within
peace gently
quivers

262

Sorrow

we never know when
sorrows buried deep
grow long roots
reaching 
into the bottomless source
of nourishing spirit
love blossoms scarlet
on branches dark-hued, twisted.

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love

if you must love
be the pool
of midnight waters
hold the shimmering distant moon
on your breast
love that which cannot
ever be yours
let yearning crack
your hardness
into a million shards
and you will find
sweetness rising
unbidden to your lips

for love which can be
grasped and eaten
leaves nothing
but the bitterness
of the inedible core

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Dawn-1

melting shadows
of the night
the pundit stands
knee deep in waters
offering chants
to gods unseen

and the river
turns to gold
with the new born sun
rising birdsong
in cool dawn breeze
divinity awakens

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You Who Never Arrived - Rilke

[You Who Never Arrived]

You who never arrived

in my arms, Beloved,

you who were lost from the start,

I don’t even know what songs
would please you. I have given up
trying to recognize you in the surging wave
of the next moment.  All the immense
images in me – the deeply felt

faraway landscape, cities, towers, bridges,
unsuspected turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods –
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.

You who are all the gardens

I have ever gazed at.
An open window in a country house –

and you almost stepped out to meet me.
Streets that I chanced upon –
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and,
startled, gave back my too-sudden image.
Who knows?  Perhaps the same bird

echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening . . .

                ~ Rainer Maria Rilke, 1875-1926

Conversations

messages of souls

whispered by moon

carried on wings

of the cool night breeze

259

Thirst

raindrops
on hot asphalt
chronicles of thirst
appeased and renewed

258

Sunflowers

Sunflowers-1
==============
from sunrise to sunset
faces up to the sky
sunflowers in the field
follow the sun
in craving for light
they turn away
from shadows that fall
forsaken behind them
and so in the midst
of flaring rings
of sun hued petals
they are forever cursed
to carry
the core of darkness

Sunflowers-2

===========
sun dips 
in the west
head bowed
forlorn sunflower
begins
the dark wait
through separation

Sunflowers-3
===========
does the sun 
in lonesome sovereignty
of the skies
ever know
the adoration
hidden
in quietude
of the solitary sunflower?

Sunflowers-4
==============
the sun bids adieu
and in shivering darkness
the sunflower
at last
turns its gaze
inwards

257

Nomad

A nomad I am
in search of home
every pang of sorrow
every letting go
is nothing but a sign post
pointing the way
further and further
till I stand alone
with the primal sorrow
of my separation from truth
and in embracing that sorrow
all other dissolves
and I rest in journey's end at last
in peace of final homecoming.

255

Hiraeth (n) homesickness for a home to which one cannot return, maybe a home which never was or one from a past life;the nostalgia, grief , yearning for lost places of your past

Temples

1)
Inside the temple 
I stand
in the sanctum sanctorum
before the idol carved
from cold black stone
paraphernalia of worship
scattered around me
surrounded by the
rising crescendo
of chant
I
the living god
in image
of flesh, blood and bone

2)

stone walls
stone floors
stone idols
of the temple

soft throbbing
in hope
of human hearts

254

Silence

silence
picks 
words
before they fall
from my lips
and buries 
them deep
relics 
of a city
long forgotten
reclaimed by earth

253

Old Tamarind Tree

standing for years
outside my home
meriting nothing but
the occasional passing glance
the old tamarind tree
has now had enough
and like a long ignored friend
it seeks to converse

waving branches festive
with new green leaves
it speaks of how
summer's generosity
follows
winter's harsh penury
remnants of last season's fruit
hang close
to tiny golden blooms

It tells me
it never asks
for anything
anything at all
but the sky and the earth
come together
in eternal love
for its sustenance

I listen to its stories
my eyes well
I whisper to it
my hundred fears
one hundred barriers to my love
old friend that it is
I hope against hope
in its ancient wisdom
I'll find my truth

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