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.

#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.

#32 Hope

I wish a star would shine today

Above the blackness of our days

Above the anger and the pain

To see another die in vain

And as we walk into the night

Clenched fists become handshakes  again. 

(prompt: Write in iambic meter)

#31: Beating the Blues

Sometimes I wish I could drape

a piece of the sky around you

So that you would remember

How you believed you could fly.

Other times, I wish I could lay the ocean

Right outside your doorstep

So that you could look beyond the walls

And see a limitless world to live by.

Maybe then, you could break free

From these self-imposed boxes

And with the sky for your wings

And the sea at your feet,

Find the strength to go seeking

Those mysterious, magical lands

That lay just beyond the horizon,

where the sky and the sea meet.

Or if the call of adventure

Seems too daunting in these times

At least walk to the shores

Leaving old imprints on the sands

Casting off the voices that hold you back

All the shoulds, the nevers, the can’ts

Until all you hear is call of the seabirds

Guiding lost sailors to safe lands.

I know it feels like it’s too late now

You say this is all you can be

The call of the sky and sea overwhelming

All you feel is the churning inside you.

Until you know you are not alone

Until you believe again in your dreams

I’ll be right by your side, I’ll be your voice,

And for now paint your walls blue.

#27 Random musings #3

The waves they fall and rise

Again and again 

In a weary rhythmic pace

Like a hopeful young man 

Working with the Dumbbells 

In the silence of his room

To have those strong arms 

That can bear the weight of his life.  

How else can the seashore

Carry all the weight of 

The dreams

The despair

The hopes

The fears

The love

The heartbreak

The laughs

The tears 

Of hundreds who come there

Alone or with their beloved

Whispering confessions  

Each evening 

Watching the sun disappear

into the sea

Taking with it all the was meant to be

And leaving in the deepening shadows 

The promise of a fresh start. 

(Prompt : dumbbell, seashore, hope)

#26: In Today's Times

I know this world seems a confusing place 

I see the questions looming large on your little face 

As you start piecing together 

The breaking news

Remnants of grownup talks

Theories of your friends 

To plot a map that will

Be your guide. 

But what map can take you past doors locked twice 

Or help you see through all the hollow advice 

We hand out 

Hoping that the devices 

The safety apps  

and the tracking

Will keep you safe 

Knowing that this armour is as unreal

As the virtual world that birthed it. 

And will come crumbling 

The moment you walk into walls

Created by the taradiddle of the mighty  

Beti bachao now seeming more a warning than a slogan of change.  

Dear child, I don't know what lies to sprout 

As I stammer to answer your questions about 

Why anyone would kill an eight year old 

And I want you to believe that  

our streets aren't as unsafe

As the meadows she called home. 

But I know these lies won't  serve both you and I. 

So despite every instinct to hold you tight

I know you'll need to learn how to fight 

These lies, these bastions of blind power 

And for that here's all I can tell

Never be afraid to take a stand 

And speak up though you may be a lonely voice 

Trust the map inside your being

Deciding your own set of truths to live by 

Never resting on what seem like wins

For the best of the gardens always need weeding

And know that past these dark, confusing times 

There would be a glorious sunrise waiting, my little girl 

To remind you about the wonders of our precious world. 

#14 Scars

I vividly remember the first one I got on my head,

Coming back from kindergarten, as I fell face down

A four-year-old flying across the home playground.

While I don’t remember the blood and pain,

I do remember sharing the tale over and over again

As I sat in class with my buddies all around,

Wearing the iodine-stained cotton - 

Less like a bandage, more like a crown,

Being applauded like a brave warrior by my friends.

As they admired the scar peeping out where my hairline ends.

Over the years, the wound has healed, 

those friendships didn’t last

But that scar, it’s still lies there, a dead remnant of that past.

Instead of narrating the tale, I try to cover it now.

Over time, pride has transformed to embarrassment somehow.

And that’s true for all the the other scars my body holds

They might be hoping that their stories get told

But all I do is silence them all the time

With flowing clothes,

Or any overly cheerful, “of course, I’m fine!”

Only to sometimes peek at them in the darkness of the night

For each of them feels like a terribly ugly sight

A painful reminder to the times the other didn’t care

Or of times when I did dare

To take a leap of faith, certain I would fly

Only to come crashing down,

my fall broken by those dreams lying on the ground.

Over time, these scars have become strong boundary lines

Unyielding, ruthlessly, separating your pain from mine.

Somehow each one convinced that we are the only ones that are broken

While the cry for help, for connection remain unspoken.

Each day, I engage in this charade of normalcy

Trying to convince my bruised heart to hold on to this fallacy

But the heart, seems to want to break out from this bind

Desperately hoping that someday we will find

The courage to uncover these scars and tell their tales

Ready at last to push back those veils

And fully see each other –

as both bruised, and brave.

#4 How can I ever do this....

"For nothing now can ever come to any good"

From inside the gremlin screamed 

"100 poems in one frigging year,

Now that's a ridiculous dream. 

In between all those meetings and work

Sandwiched by long commutes each day 

The countless chores, the endless roles, 

Writing poems is a dumb pursuit I say."

I sat quite still, my mind seemingly feeling 

what the gremlin says is true 

100 poems is an impossible target when there's limited Poetry inside you. 

Maybe I did set my aims too high

Maybe the ask of the last prompt was too tall 

How do I create something for the last line of a poem I read 

When I don't read much poetry at all!

So I sat quite blank with the gremlin's rant, 

Not knowing whether to choose relief or cry 

Thinking there is no point really 

When even the deadline has gone by

And with reaching passing hour, 

Even as my self-doubt grew, 

Over the gremlin's rant,  another voice whispered  

"Maybe, just maybe - that's not true"

(Line from WH Auden's Funeral blues")

#2: What the eye cannot sense

The darkness that engulfs me
Seems nothing but an extension
of the darkness that fills me from within
And today has oozed out
of every crevice, every pore
and threatens to swallow me whole.

I relied on my sight for everything.
Now how am I to navigate these paths
strewn with disappointments of my yesterday
and doubts for the new tomorrow?

And even as I stumble long
not just beaten and brusied
but also scared and confused,
I can hear
the courage in my questions,
the tinkle in my talk,
the hope in my songs
urging me to walk along.

And I can taste
the saltiness of my sweat
the sourness of my defeats
the sweetness in letting go
of my ideals of what life should be
and instead, nibble on what is.

And as you reach out to hold my hand,
I feel the solidness of your beliefs,
the fragility of self doubt,
the roughness of your dreams
as you choose to walk right beside me.

And as the breath fills my lungs
I smell the ashes of yesterday gone by,
the freshness of tomorrow that will be,
and though my sight be gone, for now,
the sounds, the tastes, the touch, the smells
Seem to shine a light on the darkness within.