Tuesday, January 22, 2013

In you all things are changing, less fire, more water,
 sometimes you wake up as though you never slept at all,
 you are falling back behind the lines, it reminds you of
 retreating armies, you think it cowardly, you are most
 cruel to the weakest, you don't really know if you are
 finally letting go or clinging to things you should have
 let go long ago, you sift through memories of others-
 a slave in ancient Greece, a Sufi saint in Ajmer,
 a concubine in China, you are all of them and none
 of them, you wonder if that is the fifth dimension
 he told you about? You, who once fell in love 
with the crowd in Times Square, New York, gets
 a headache when assaulted by loud voices, the movements
 of too many people disorients you. You seek out the sunlight,
 you look for love in corners of books, you turn out
 cupboards, run that deserted stretch of road, you are
 changing, fighting, swallowing, choking until you are so 
exhausted, but it takes you so long to fall asleep, hours go
 by and you wait for the enveloping peace that only 
sleep brings, you sometimes end up crying because
 you are losing out on people, people whom you love
 and people who love you, you can see them trying so hard
 to pull you up but you are unable to stretch your hand, 
you are retreating and you don't know how to go back,
 how to reverse it and go back to that point
 where everything would be alright again.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Waking up, walking to your door, waiting for you

I don't know why I suddenly feel homesick
or some sort of sick, like something is missing
and it's breaking my heart not to have it, only
 that I don't know what it is. Some things I am
 learning to admit to myself, for instance,
I am needy in quite a pathetic way. Maybe
 if I had your arms around me or even just
 a few of your words whispered to me, if I was
 running around getting the cake knowing that
you are in the room next door, your living
breathing presence, not two kilometers away
because it is simply cruel to be parted by ten hours
of the night and several more of the daylight hours.
 It hurt less when you were two thousand kilometers
 away, sometimes distance doesn't sink your heart
 the way nearness does. Ask anyone. But then how
 would anyone know? How can anyone feel the way
 I do about you, that in this moment suspended in time,
the world is blurring, other people are but specimens
too bland, too interesting, too old, too new and they
somehow couldn't arrive at the perfection at which
you somehow did and here I am
 waking up, walking to your door, waiting for you.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

The coming of an end always leaves you
with a falling heart, even the desired end
 after which you assumed all the delights
of your deprived life would rush back to you,
sweep you of your everyday-wake-up-and-read-eat-sleep
routine.You are leaving behind something of yourself,
and this isn't the first time nor do you think this will be the last,
the places you have left behind, the little rooms, the shelf of 
overflowing books,the beads spilling out of your drawer,
 tablets competing with your clock for space in your bedside table, 
the waking up, the putting to sleep, you know that with each end
 you are letting go or being let go or both, hands that were wrapped 
around you won't catch you when you fall, you get on the plane
 like you always do, and you can't help feeling empty
 because some things were getting mended, and being let off 
such misery can be overwhelming, you have always wanted
 this end, counted the days to this end,
 but with it you are losing something you don't quite know.