Gratitude

I was here. Before all that ever was 

went up in smoke, I was here. 

To those eyes that noticed mine

In a million faces of the crowd 

And to those hands that rested 

But briefly on mine

To that warmth which lit up

Dark aeons surrounding each

of our unclothed souls,

Those lips, that skin, those voices

Like ripples in a shoreless deep

I owe it all to them 

That I was here, alive. 

Before all that ever was 

Went up in smoke 

I don’t love you anymore

I don’t love you anymore

Once I did, as fresh blossoms seek

The sun, drenched in morning dew

Pouring galaxies into spaces that never fill

Arranging those stars ever so carefully 

Into patterns, fatelines, memories

Smudged into greys, blacks and reds

Oh I did love you, once 

I loved you like scar splashed stories

On skins which wrinkle, but never pale 

Here, right now, in today’s history 

The world has come to an end

Tomorrow, the virus might have 

Killed us all, or just you, or just me 

But today these words

Put an end to me, to us. 

I don’t love you anymore 

because you see, what is commonly 

Called love can hurt but can’t bruise

It doesn’t seek to burn and be ashes  

It’s ice-creams in winter, flowers and laughter 

Parties, texts, airports and kisses 

What love is it if it stretches open

A ripped soul and lays it out to the skies

Be that as may that the fingers kept 

Swiping right, drained, empty echoes

Of those that just wanted more,

More voids to fill, more emptiness to seek

More prayers to forget because  

I don’t love you anymore 

I once loved, not you, but her,

Untouched as she was by any other

Those dark-eyes seeking in me

Alcohol, airplanes, fames, fortunes

And beyond all of those, a need to belong

But all around her, her need to run

I caught in her eyes, a glimpse of our past

It’s simple, it’s sad, but it needs to be said

I loved you once and now

I don’t love you anymore 

Staircase to stars

Under this umbrella, lie all the stars

Hold out your palm to the open skies

Pins and needles, nay, gallons of pain

Twists and turns, and a wrenching of hearts

All will be well with this blue print of love 

When my fingertips write on your naked wrist

All will be well with poets and songs

Once you reclaim our nook from those books 

Love asked me if I believe and I laughed once

And then stripped of skin and again of blood

I write these tales of white truth, dark lies

On pages and pages of unfounded myths

That in all those people I ever was to love

Was hidden a mirror, an endless nadir

Again and again with hope, with despair 

I search in your eyes, that staircase to stars

Rama

Thousands of dreams, melted in distrust 

Blood rained here once and just how!

Pride, grace and gore ground to dust

Centuries crushed your sense of thou

Until one man held all of Ganga in his voice 

time has now come to free, he said, rejoice 

Fallen gods in tents, memories of despair 

Repair each knot, wipe every drop of tear 

Invoke sacred fires of the yore,

Sprinkle earth with water and incense,   

And from ancient memories write 

His only name on bricks of clay

Lest you forget who built those kilns, 

Those mottled faceless, nameless 

Crowds, who crossed oceans in his name

And claimed his coronation as their own,

Rejoice and say his name once

Rama, Sree Rama, Raghu Rama 

Janaki nandana, jagadananda karaka,

You warrior, you lover, you son, you king  

You, the cause of happiness in the world,

Welcome home. We built you one  

 

Gone

You will be that hole in me which devours 

Every ray of hope shining through another window

That hole into which I shed this burden of light

Of wanting to live, to know and to see

You will be that pain which I want to 

Find again and again in scabs of memories 

Ripping through these mounds of unhealed 

moments, those concrete mountains of lust

Deeper and deeper I dig for some meaning

It must have been as it was meant to be

He must have left as he needed to find himself 

I must have been harsher than I ever wanted to

They must have meant what they never said

One day from another day, I know 

No difference, anymore. Just as though

I still hold your fingers in my palm

Looking through the window into gushing

Monsoons of the past

Those days which will never be back, those nights

Which will never forget

You will be the kaleidoscope that failed to 

Lure your future into our past

And yet a yellow scarf lies somewhere 

Still, untouched, unripped 

You will be the hand that brushed it aside 

And walked out into your wide fields of joy

Closing in on me, my black hole, my love

One atom at a time, all of world’s windows.  

 

Here and there

I was here. And I stepped

into warm pools of your breath

Those cloud-bound vapors 

of wistful wedding songs 

I was here, together

with all of our tomorrows

In that moment of birth 

Welcoming a new you, an unknown us,

With green bangles of yellowed novels,

Each time I open that pink album,

I am here. 

You were there.

Or not here, in any case.

My shadow always a little too short

For your frame 

My laughter a little too loud

Than yours at all those events full 

Of people, food, wines and then 

Talking late into the night 

About everyone but us

I laugh at my shadow these days  

I wear pinks and greens and 

Soak up that yellow warmth 

From there.