This will be a poem

We woke up making love quietly

so that the house would

not be consumed by 

the flames slipping

from our bodies and lips

You made me breakfast

I made the bed

You left your cologne at 

the bedside table

and I forgot where I kept

the keys to my office

You postponed your meeting

and I called a taxi

As we waited 

you finished your last 

smoke of the morning

My eyes were brimming

with things I wanted to say

you saw me struggling

and held my hand

When it was time to go

You turned to me with longing

and I gave you a kiss to last

till the evening

Patiala sunrise

Settle Down

Settle down in a closet
Full of dolls and binders
For children unborn
and the fantasy 
that makes you man
that makes you woman

Settle down in aspirations
between haves and have nots
and pretend you belong
to the language you talk in

and the streets you walk in

and the clothes you picked out

Settle down, settle down,
settle down now-
don’t scream, don’t yell,
don’t fight it-
haven’t you heard the wise
do not change, they settle-
It is good to be wise

It is good for dust to settle

Settle down, settle down,

settle down now- 

you’re too old to dream

too young to understand-

haven’t you heard comfort

is indivisible, it settles-

It is good to be comfortable

It is good for dark to settle

Lightening in Patiala

Boxes

I've put you in a box now

and my walls have become empty.

They'll come for pick up tomorrow

and ship you to a home I've never seen.

I've told them to handle with care-

given them a value for

insurance purposes.

If they lose you to the seas

I don't know what I'd do

I don't know what I'll do-

I don't know where I'd be going-

maybe the insurance money 

will buy overpriced biryani

that'll comfort me.

When I go

When I go I will leave a part of 
me with you and
then you can tend to it 
as you like.

If you decide to use it on cold nights
I hope it keeps you warm
as it did me.

Last beer at Sauf Haus Beir Hall

It’s hard enough

It’s hard enough 

to keep myself 

                                from 

falling

won’t you push me 

                               with the words

                               I need to hear

                               so

                               we can 

                               get the 

                               heart

          break

                         over 

                                                              with

At Sundar Nursery
Courtesy: Palak Dudani

End of an Era

You beat in my heart
like an echo in a well:
endless and haunting.
My walls are shifted by
memories reverberating.

The bell rings loud above-
as cold winds of the north turn back
and hot southern winds advance.

This time when I leave
I promise to be gentle.
This time when I leave
I will look back.

Sunset at Cobb's Hill

A Hymn and the Holy

There is a new war now-
People are dead.

An old wine in a new bottle

and new hands.

It is still served out the same way

still swallowed the same way-

though the contents turned

into vinegar a long time ago.

Everyone knows hypocrisy is best sweetened with 

righteousness and eaten

on the burnt broken backs of

someone else’s home and history.

Have David and Goliath always been so cynical?

I don’t remember when these tired tropes 

converted me. 

--------

A video is shared:

“Vaishnav Jan Toh sung by

Shafqat Amanat Ali

on the 150th anniversary of

Mahatma Gandhi.”

I press play and a new

window appears.

For those who know-

they may understand why

my cupped hands strengthen and shake.

For those who don’t know, you see-

my country claims Gandhi on its currency

And is at war with Ali’s homeland.

The song is religious but it is

a boundary that is crossed

in service of what the song espouses: 

faith, 

empathy, 

responsibility,

and goodness.

For those who don’t know, 

I wish I knew how to share this feeling with you-

it is beautiful.

You see, the song was a famous favourite of the man who

became a symbol of peace,

a man who fought for our freedom before maps had boundaries, 

a man who was just a man and yet belongs to us all.

 

As the song plays on the war goes on too.

Neither can bring back the dead,

or the homes destroyed,

or the history lost.

But for the few minutes the song plays-

there is no room for Good or Evil-

there is only space for

the quiet pain of beating hearts torn asunder

and a gentle faith that cuts through

the tyranny of holy wars.

     The video below is Shafqat Amanat Ali's rendition of Vaishnav Jan:

Skyfall

Today I saw the sky falling:
                            swirling icy 

              flakes 
                      laid to rest on 

                           cracked 

                      dirt.

In my homeland, the sky does not fall
it weeps 

              and we dance 

                   in mud puddles
             made of tears
                       of reunion, of relief.

We do not write of the sun,
    we sing of wetness
      of bodies, of birth.

We do not write of clear skies,
      we sing of clouds
of longing, of release.

But today, in this foreign land,
I saw the sky falling 

                                  quietly:
                the earth
       did not shake 

                      under 

      the weight
                and I wept 
      for the sun.
     
The earth froze slowly
             holding on to 

                                    the fallen 

                                 pieces-
   tightly but delicately-

                        as careless 

              feet 

                        trampled on.

And when the sun 
           broke the sky 

                             open
                                    into blue and grey
                       still 

               the sky was 

    falling-
      determined but trusting-
       shimmering but fragile-
               floating

                      through a space that 
                   forever 
                    cleaves.

 Rochester in sun and snow