Transitions

And here I stand.
Between twilight and the break of dawn.
I hold in my mind
all my forgotten thoughts.
Sifting through the sand,
I realize – it was by this shore
that I had buried
all my hopes for tomorrow.

Each passing tide
had held forth
the promise of this very land.
Not a grain less,
not a grain more.
All this here –
my mistakes, my doing – my life.

And now, here I stand.
Tomorrow, I will break into a tide;
I will rush with the winds;
sleep under the shadows
of a distant sun.
For I am in a ceaseless transition
from who I am
to who I will be.

Turbulence

Tides arrive-
Scathing and dark.
Questions lash
On empty shores.

Land recedes,
Recognizing-
Answers lose relevance
In the cacophony
Of multitudes.

All night long,
A stranded land
Awaits-
A friendly tide,
A morning sun.

From an ounce of peace,
Saved-
From incessant grey tides,
Springs forth – a hope.

In the quiet sanctuary
Of hope,
Answers revel.
In these answers,
A peace.

Apprentices to time

The year stands lightly,
by the door.
An apprentice to time,
His tenure is done.
He holds up the key
And with a wistful sigh,
Talks of bags and suitcases
Waiting to be packed.

He talks of memories,
Lying in silken pouches
And far too many days
Colored – by reminiscence
Drying in the sun, still.
He would leave them behind
As footnotes
For a new journeyman.

He talks of hope,
He had bundled
Into a grand old closet,
Creaking with the wisdom
Of years that had passed it by.

And with a strange fascination
Befitting a toddler,
He counts the minutes
He has left
To pack the fog that hangs heavy –
His handiwork –
Into boxes of lead – his –
To carry – onward into history.
Tears and blood, he has to
Transform – into
neat stories and rounded numbers –
Posterity has time,
Only for approximations
Of misery.

But his last great work,
He says, would be
To leave behind,
The key he fashioned
For the grand old closet.
He would pass on, he says,
The salience of hope
To a new journeyman –
The fresh apprentice to time –
Already on the road.

The Downpour

Icy cold and endless,
Raindrops on the highway.
Puddles of puzzles,
Screaming and dancing on my way.
Hits me hard and hits me cold-
The downpour.

Cracked up heavens and bittersweet tears;
Memories of another rainy day.
Bottled emotions and restless fears,
bared in a thunderous display.
Howling winds and scathing drops;
Frostbites on my soul.

Rains within and rains on the windowsill;
Reflections each – of the other.
Earth and heaven, you and me; still
Locked and bound, to suffer.
Paper boats and umbrellas on the road;
neither mine, nor yours to own.
But fragile hopes and sheltered dreams;
refuse to leave; they refuse to leave.

Setting Sail

Peace floats on a rocky boat-
Miles into the sea.
A stubborn flame in a blackened world;
Fighting to break free.

The night is long as the day was true.
The storms and the clouds aren’t that new.
Many a mile was given to solitude.
Anguish and screams, stolen by fortitude.

Moments of serenity, few and far between.
Monstrous tides, otherwise within.
Questions splash on the water and drown;
Answers lie in irrelevant shores.

But peace died that stormy night.
What is left is a lookalike-
An imposter of a different kind.
A useful one alright!

This voyage is mine and mine alone.
There is hope in the wind and wind in my hope.
But for now – we will dwell in emptiness.
Life! We will set sail in the stillness.

Elements of Resilience

I am so used to hope-
I could carve one out,
of the densest rock.

I am so used to peace-
I could set to its tune,
throbbing waters of the seas.

I am so used to love-
I cannot leave it’s high throne,
for shallow depths of the other.

I have not found a single grief-
I could not wash away-
with ounces of time
and drops of neglect, studied.

I cannot live the night,
bound to the dark!
I delight in the sweet conquests
of smatterings of distant lights.

I cannot be undone-
by a mere travesty.
I do not trade,
a lifetime for a penny.