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The Long Walk Home

The trail to my Home passes through a garden stretch. I see the Constant Gardener always at work. He would nip a bud here, there; allow a wild flower to bloom. He would plant a hedge here, drive a wedge there, water some beds here, and leave some beds in gloom.

In places, I see patches of dandelions in bloom and areas where the dead flowers have left behind their persistent thorns. There are miles and miles left fallow, for when the time is right, he will make new flowers grow. 

It has been years since I started, will be some more until I reach Home. And as the decade turns the corner, I look forward... for there is nothing I see when I look behind. And as I plod on amidst thorns and flowers, with me my world plods on.

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Clarity

I have looked at myself
From the edges of reason
And discovered
That both my sanity and insanity
Springs forth like seasons
Out of my distances from you. Realizing thus
I have allowed the outer rims
Of my diffused sanity
To fritter away into crumbs
Of misplaced memories
From my time with you. I have often found myself being unreasonable
When I am away from you.
And generally insane
When otherwise.

Objects in the rear-view mirror are…

When it was time for her to go, it was also time for me to let go. Once an irritant is washed out, they say you can start seeing better immediately. All that stupid tears and all that rubbing of the soul, until your eyelids would cry out, no more, no more. 
And then, just like that, one fine day, I wake up, and she was gone.
As the train chugged out
The tracks cried out in senseless
creaks of half despair

The Dark of the Night

You would not have walked with me
Had the nights been not so scary
And your nightmares
All so real for you.

I would not have held your hands
Had the hands that I wished to hold
Not left me out in the cold.
Let us together, you and I

Celebrate our togetherness
Even as in our silences
We cherish our separateness.

Mar 7, 2015
First published in Indian Sahitya, Feb 2017 Issue on Contemporary Indian Poetry