When so near
Your fingers meet
Intertwine you must
Souls when near
Darkness will fall
When the sun fails
Moonlight shall light
When she decides to show her face
Through the curtain she peers
drops of sweat glistens
On the chest
Flows down a rivulet
The dusky skin
Awaits the breeze
By the shore of the river
A lone form
Watches the boat drifting along the tide
Eyes black as coal
Watching close for any change .
Goodbye or hello
We will never know.
A few days back I got a text wishing me the best.
From a person who's very dear. Who has stood the test of time. Who has mentored during grad school. While I saw him struggle with roadblocks that life gave him I was also the recipient of all his positivity and encouragement...
Life weathers you so much that over the years the diamond that you started out being gets covered in dust and mud and clay.
All it takes is for a strong rain to wash everything away and restore the brilliance and the beauty.
And shine you will. To the brilliance and back.
Until then, May the music be with you dear friend.
Waiting for the bus alone for over quarter of an hour... I looked for a place to sit... Sat in a stone road lining that people generally gather at sunset to talk about their day in the field before heading home to their families...
As the bus rolled in.. The town girl in me awoke after close to almost a decade... I had to grab hold of a seat by pushing my bag through a tiny window way above my head and wait my turn to get into the bus assured of a seat...
Quietly taking my seat from a man who screamed and told me that I could come standing why do I need a seat... I shouldn't react I told myself and turned my face to the window and look out at the fields....
How fast it all comes back... The instinctive reserving of the seat with what ever in your hand. The non responsiveness to the cursing of disappointed fellow passengers...
It could be that I am a town girl deep within.
I do dream of lazy mornings with my paper and a cup of coffee while my little one plays in the garden.
As i take the trip down I watch a few seats down a man sitting between his woman and a stranger... The woman as she watches out the window his arm reaches around her tenderly and pulls her flower adorned head onto his shoulder. That tender moment. Amid the purity of nature. Among the rustic language.
That tenderness.
