Waves ripple

The sea once tries to tell the waves, story of the water playing dead in the river. But the waves know better. The river has its water living life differently. Waves bubble. River has its ripples.  Foam is the afterthought. The ripple probably is the wrikle on the forehead for the river as it tries to share a tale

It is like that..

The tenderness like that in the moment when the tear rolls down and a fingertip touches it lightly..Racing pulse like that of a kingfisher as he dives with strength in the water. Love is like that.

Love is like that tear that fills your eye but doesn't fall when some good old memory crosses your path. It is the millionth 'why' you ask yourself knowing you don't have an answer even the millionth time :)

In a thick rain forest a tree falls down. New shoots come. But the earth holds tight to the roots of the tree that fell.

Old Sliver

Today I came across my old silver rings and bracelets and other silver stuff. Silver that has turned black. The rings I wore as a teenager.. stuff that defined my spirit then. I always liked gray more than golden. It has a depth I used to say.

One particular rose ring that a silversmith created for me and a silver pen; I found them again today after a couple of years. I keep them such that I find them again after every some while. It reminds me of those times I wore silver. The younger me had more layers sometimes I feel. Silver would make me feel that the metal is able to reflect those dark corners in my mind, those blanks in my sentences, those poems I left incomplete. The gray said it all about me.

Today sometimes I find that old silver and wear a ring or two for sometime. Every time I keep it back. It doesn't return the spirit I once had. It only gives me a memory of what I was.

:)

I don't know what life was like before I became a mother on 18th May, 2010. I used to blog then.. and if nothing at all I miss that element of my earlier life a lot. I will not blame it on time or the toddler who was a baby once for not letting me blog. Some experiences are too fulfilling and leave no space for words to fill in and explain how it felt.

I can't explain the tear that rolled down my cheek when I heard my son's first cry.

I can't explain how good it feels..

But blog I will..whenever I can.

It takes strength to create and stupidity to devastate. The waves called me out. I have been listening to their rhythm every night. The waves missed the rhythm of my beats. Long hair open, running free like the ocean foam grey in the midnight. Feel of the sand under my feet again..footprint or no footprint..I was there at the sea last night.

Lost

Do you feel lost in your own lane sometimes? The block had a home, your home somewhere down there. You return back home one day and realise you are lost in your own lane. You can't just find the home at all. It is maybe like you have outgrown your old t-shirt. Your home has outgrown you, or you have outgrown the home.

I am not returning today. I am on my way to a discovery. Is it the wooden twigs that I need to find for the nest or is it the hollow in that bark? Or maybe if I look harder I might find myself in some lost time with some lost home.

I am not returning back from here. I am on my way to a discovery.

I will be there

23rd November, 2009

I will rest under the flowers in your meadow.

Under the green young blades of the grass and the flaming yellows of the orange flowers

That way I can be with you even more

I will be there in the dew drops on the lotus leaf in your pond

In the wind that warms you with the morning sun

I will be that single ray of sun that travels across the white thickness of the clouds and touches you every morning.

Bring me home

My beak under my wing
I can hear the raindrops on my roof still
the bright orange,cutting the sky
some shade of yellow I can see still

Bring me home
to the shade of green
to the warmth of a heart
the cavity in the tree bark

The color of my skin,
on the touch of my fingers ,
the walls of the house,
like my flesh and blood,
come alive.