Cities left like empty vases,
a spot once full
Run, run, run
to the places unknown
hiding beneath the carcass of nature,
Sit, observe and run
to the places that are quiet now.
Learn from the two-fold mystery of God,
they do it like a yard spinning.
Do not fear,
this pool is a rubber band,
the more you stretch, the more it shall get you.
Clench the fist of the thing you see next now,
yes, a rope,
but do not stop.
you have to live like a sussurous hymn.
Wrote after the super cyclone- Amphan.
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a prayer so soft
I mumble each time
There is a method I perform my chants
like sticking to the table,
thumping my wrist against my forehead.
I wish to sneeze while praying
to eject sins,
a horror bowl that rests between my toes,
twirling softly and eating me bite by bite.
My prayers are often lullabies.
you scavenge while dreaming.
to sniff a piece of hope.
I do speak in four voices
that swirls my lock of hair.
I repeat my prayers when I am a shadow of a fallen sky
a bird that refuses to watch me.
nature has its way to corner from the human.
Without a shard of primrose,
A scourge of shaved earth.
And I change places
till I see a circumference of white powder
there, inside my mind
blooming the entire prayer
in colors of myth and violet rain.
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Resolute flames of candle burn on my windowsill
catching your white still fierce memory laughing in the atmosphere,
Tonight, I rebuke the ashes and the time of Thar
to halt, a clock eating another clock somewhere
If I slit tomatoes with you, you shall give me memories and formations.
For you create footsteps and geometry,
Carrying your dainty artistic eyes in the paintings of my body
I replicate you, I replicate your duties, Mother
And I learn the process of Catharsis from your bellybutton
I sew your words to my hairdo, swaying
singing your touch around,
And I pray and pray
like rainbows touching a slice of paradise.
For, I shall always be You.
P.S – To my everything, my Mother.