I hear a quiet shout,
screeching under my eyes-
How long do I float, anonymously?
to declare is what I want-
space and time
stars and grass,
look at my one hand,
the one that stares you-
curvatures of my body= lotus.
Lotus that spews water from its body again and again.
Call it life. Give it a name-
Air, will you be a space to my existence?
Water- will you sing songs to my graveyard?
Fire, burn along. Do not resist anything further.
This day inhales "me" in the most blasphemous way.
I do it through a circular band on forehead.
I soak everything like a sponge.
Watering lilies and eating oatmeal.
Please be mine- You, the ferocious 'eye'.
Apply a cold balm all through my body- know my persistence of time
and know what I mean.
To read my book-
Crimson Skins- India
Crimson Skins- US
A dreamer and a believer for the upliftment of women rights. A published poet, author, writer. Believes in dancing and cooking amazing food for hungry souls at times.
Loves to write and write till the moon is satisfied.
My writings can be found at Visual Verse, Indian Periodical, Sick Lit mag, Duane's Poetree, Thistle magazine, among various others.
Curator of Olive Skins.
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