To think that the dust piled up by the side street
when I turned my face to look the braced sky
falling in the hands of time and oceans shivered my
sense of ecstasy. The pinkish pull at my veins
looked dull through my eyes and I saw you waiting
beneath my hands, waiting the moment’s death
to suck me in.
The beggar looked paler when he opened his mouth
for a piece of bread and I looked at the dull earth
showing me colors of the wind.
I have sought the lines of your breath
in my heart’s whispers and placed the bits of you
on my palm and rubbed and pressed
like a fallen eyelash and made a wish.
The wish was you through your soul
looking to dive in endlessly and I haven’t tried
to break the spell of what came and what went
like a river flows through the sands.
And the sands of me are wet with fingers,
touching your tissues of nakedness.
Crazy me never asked for more than broken poems
and cells of longing ruptured in your arms like
hidden sculptures of cracked stones. Your hands
were your secret organ, privately wrapping my mind
in yours and your lips burnt and crawled on my belly
like a fire smoldering. The child looked even more
innocent smiling at my marks disappearing
in the shadow tugging at my breast as if I mothered him.
I never learnt whether I was you or you were me
through our time and the old man gave me the blessings
through his greys and I was toothless digging
through the holes rapidly for a bit of your water.
The woman was me that looked at the old sky raining
tears of time and the old tree spreading the roots
that made a rock on the shifting sands and
I never moved.

The tree, the rock, the sea, the wind, the sky, the me and the you.
Finally the merger grasped my hands leading me through.
And you and I were lost again in them caught in our own wreckage. 
 
 
 


 

 

Saberi Roy, 13 December, 2007