poetry

My heart sinksbeneath the screamsof the powerless soulsas their tears vanishand silence follows Shadows scatter like broken prayerssouls stray like wingless wishesas a scene of horrorsummons them all The mother stands above the remnants of the ruined houseThe child strays, stranded and lostThe father lies buried beneath the rubbleAs their lives and stories become nothing …

Why should I speak,When all aroundTheir own voice shareWith spurning flair? With half a century of knowledge,But cannot hear for half a minuteWords this half-man tries to forage,Yet disturbed by what they audit. Why bother asking? To satisfy?Perhaps a guilt to justify.Concern? It does not showHow could it, When they do not know- What I …

A Ritual of Remembrance ‘Once inked on the face, a tattoo becomes a lifelong conversation.’ My little sister calls out— ‘I’m coming to say good night’ Afraid she might fall, I reach for the light, miss the switch, hit the bed’s sharp edge Blood on the floor, hospital glare, stitches cutting into skin, my screams, …

I long for you  as the ocean yearns swirling, churning and rasping to embrace the sky I burn for you as the sun bursts into the sky with scarlets and gold ambers and coppers Setting the sky on fire I weep for you as the sky grieves for the turf raining down with tears of …

At the dawn of a new year, aftershocks of her death reverberated through a tranquil neighborhood. An eighty-one-year-old neighbor, aloof widow seen at the temple offering flowers to Lord Buddha chatting with a few on her way back, mere hours before — now found murdered inside her home. A vicious tale of violence: of broken …

So many elves of selves within me lie, Those whom the world has wrought And some who gave me birth have sought To make me think and seem alike and seek What others say and do and teach and preach Like pearls inset in jeweled class and creed. Then, there is the workplace bonhomie, me …

One summer day in nineteen sixty-four, The eager spectators broke into a loud roar! As the starter of the marathon pulls the trigger, Thirty-eight athletes set to run ten thousand metres. Hours passed, The winners were announced— Gold and silver medals and bronze Adorn the winning Olympic icons. Race over, the rest give up. To …

“Strictly no palmyrahs on your drawings dear, It’s national level, after all,” the teacher warned. “You never know who marks your paper, Or what language he speaks. Better be discreet, and hold it back, Who you are, what you are, Or where you’re from.” Years roll by – the capital’s my new lover. “She’s Tamil.” …