Dance (as 2019 begins)

Dance
Dance to the beat of your heart
To the rhythm of your soul
To the call of the body
as she dreams to be whole.

Dance.
Dance with your arms outstretched
to mirror the expansiveness that is you
No need to slump and hide
As life calls out anew.

Dance.
Dance with the lightness of a feather,
Unbounded, soft and free.
Celebrate the being that you are now,
A rooted, strong tree.

Dance.
Dance to live
Dance past the pain.
Dance to be seen,
let go of the shame.
Dance to celebrate,
this spirit that's born again.
And despite the challenges that come your way,
Remember as you show up each day,
To dance.
Simply dance.

#38 Goodbyes 

Goodbyes have never been my thing
The ones we exchange at airports - the worst kind. 
The last story,
The last few words,
The last time of shared silence.

The last laugh,
The last smile,
The last glance into twinkling eyes.

The last promises,
The last hug,
The last time you clasp my hands, 
A gentle reminder of being connected,
despite the ruthless miles in between. 

And even as I feel 
That I lose a part of me with each goodbye, 
I hold closely the part the other leaves behind, 
A precious gift of the time we shared. 

#37 : Sunset

I could be anywhere

Anywhere at all

On a secluded beach,

or crowded metro station,

In the seclusion of my home

Or at a viewpoint when on vacation

Standing on a roof top,

Or the apartment’s parking lot

In a wide, open field,

or in peak traffic caught

In a party full of friends

The music in a crazy din

Or on a long solo walk

With the peace seeping in

Each time I glance at the sky at dusk

I am transported into a magical world

With each colour in a stunning swirl.

Like a whirling dervish

Deep in his trance

Is colouring the skies

With the ecstasy of his dance.

And I could be feeling anything

Anything at all,

Either weary and beaten

By the struggles of the day

Or filled with gratitude

for the blessings that came my way

Looking forward to a new start

That has just begun to flow

Or struggling with a goodbye

When I am not ready to let go,

Each time I glance

at the evening sky

I feel emptied of the

what’s and why’s

As the glorious sunset

around me unfurls

Reminding me that

all’s right with my world.

Though I see the deepening darkness

Slowly bring the day to end

I sink into the peace and joy

Knowing that just around the bend

Awaits the sun, my powerful friend.

#36 - Changing Shades of Summer

I remember a time when summer was

Endless days of mindless fun

As we played in the scorching sun

Without a care or pause.

A time when mangoes lay in crates

The still air laden with their scent

And we ate them to our heart’s content

As the seeds lay stacked in our plates

And when the play for the day seemed done

It was time for books and treats

Under makeshift tents of torn bedsheets

That always had enough room for everyone

With each year these memories fade

The crates replaced by boxes small

Instead of tents, now tall glass walls

As through the workload we wade

And though sometimes the day is cooled

With much awaited evening rains

I do miss all the play, the games

Those days when mangoes and magic ruled!

#35 - The meeting of two worlds

(prompt: last line of your previous poem - first line of this one)

Under the canopy of forest skies

In a web that binds them all

The creatures live in quiet regard

For lives around big and small.

Here the survival of the fittest applies 

So do the laws of synergy 

Each creature playing their unique part 

In sync with the earth's energy.

Many lessons we could learn from there
If only one truly cares
But all we seem to do is encroach
Our home taking precedence over theirs 

I wonder if the creatures look beyond their land 

Wonderingly at our grey cityscapes.

As much as we look at their green lush worlds 

Longing for a quick escape.

#34 - The Sharing of Stories

Have you seen a story travel over winding dusty roads - 

On the lips of the minstrel traveling through the lands,

Planting hope with the words of the wise 

Have you seen a story travel through the pats of the grandma - 

The myth and made-up tales - all inheritance from her wrinkled hands

Passed onto sleep-laden eyes.

Have you see a story travel from the dog-eared pages of a book - 

As words become vivid images creating a whole new world of adventure 

With all its lows and highs

Have you seen a story travel on the sparks of a campfire bright - 

As the raconteur weaves dreams and fears into tales that survived a million years 

Under the canopy of the forest skies.

#33 Dreams

धूप से धुले हुएँ आँगन में दौड़ें यूँ

जैसे कोई पतंग उड़े चला बादलों को छू। 

और जब जब इस  धूप में होंसला लगे तपने, 

छाँव बन जातें है आकर सारे सपने