How many more sunsets can I savour? Breathe in the bush and the trees, Feel the wind brush past my fingers Or sand cling to my toes.
I hope, enough. In the midst of commitments, And anxious undertones Of our world falling apart.
How much love can one heart hold? I wonder with my bare feet planted on the grass, Listening to kids play and aunties chat While couples walk with linked arms.
My heart is full.
It won't be the rain that didn't stop Nor the floods that threatened our safety.
It won't be the fires that were too close to home Nor the heat that made the air thick.
It won’t be the many signs we ignored While working in our air-conditioned offices, To make the rusty machine spit soot.
It won’t be the families forced to leave their homes. The end will come with our kids; Deprived and uncertain.
Their future robbed and ours to dust.
I wanted to make a list of all the things That made me feel warm and content.
This list sounds like poetry to me, And that too fills me with warmth.
Change is difficult, As we are mired by our burdens. Holding on to a permanence and comfort, In a world that does not care.
We don't need much to simply be; Food, shelter, warmth, touch, And things that could move our hearts. Yet these days they are all replaceable / consumable.
Except, for a few treasured keepsakes. That anchor us to our moments of connection. Though even they fade— As we too are consumables.
Listen till your ears bleed Till your heart breaks And you can't bear to listen no more.
Then keep listening. Till you live how they live And their pain is your pain.
Then, Maybe then, You can speak.
I'm hanging off a ledge Fingers slipping, Knuckles locked in fear I don't dare look below.
But the cliff isn't that high. When I fall Barely a moment will pass And I'd feel the warm earth under my feet.
I know all this, Yet I can't let go.
All opposites, All dichotomies Are false, sans time.
Life over time becomes death, Love becomes loss, And perhaps also hate.
Tragedy to comedy. Light to darkness. Misery unto strength.
Everything can become nothing, Over time. Give it time.
So moved by sensations & textures That yearn to be understood. My being consumed by patterns.
Tapping into the pulse of the universe, Connected to the history of life And to the artist.
A person, Like me. Who can feel so intensely.
Delight, Nuances, Strategy, Repeat.
When I heard the news That you were gone I didn’t think much of it. You’re not where I am, You’re not where you used to be.
Now that I am back Where you’ve been. I feel your absence, I feel your presence. And it hurts so damn much.
And I miss you.