Wednesday, July 1, 2020



Arc Of Sacrum

I am no Joan of Arc
Fighting holy wars or wearing the mantle of a saint
I have no truck with religious places
I am my god
I am my goddess
I am not out to flog dead horses
I am the arc onto my sacrum
Building me a stable foundation
Weaving nerves and sinews
Garnering peace between
Reason and Passion on a triangular battlefield
I am my own holy bread
I am my own wine
I am no Judas
I am no Jesus
I am that space which hangs in between!

Blue Sapphire

Your embrace is like the blue of the sapphire
Gradually seeping into me
making my body pure as gold
I have started playing like a flute
Moving like a dancer
Flowing like the breeze
Blooming like a sunflower
The mehndi of the stars embellishing my palms
The bindi of moon glittering on my forehead
Drunk, intoxicated
I sing my own tune!

Emerald Magic

Sylvan longings and impromptu drives to the hills
With you at the seat
Taking us on grey roads
Winding through errant streams crisscrossing
Gravel paths, narrow
The Baspa flowing furiously below
Smell of pine seeping through
Rhododendrons applying tilak
Welcoming us
Steaming cups of chai
Warm like love
Silent sentinels in white capes
Smiling in amber colours
Rainbow sheets of sky
Makes us fly
That blue butterfly on the purple flower
I open my eyes
To the emerald magic within


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