Scribbled on a Napkin- A long time ago. When bruises of losing a home were still fresh. 20 years and they still are.
I cannot ask and yet I must.
I will ask, for instance--
have you seen 'like water for chocolate'
& have you cried over a foggy night doused in firecracker light?
I cannot kiss you and yet I must.
I will kiss, for instance--
the leaf before it falls underfoot;
the captured dragonfly in its muted terror.
I cannot weep, and yet I must.
I will weep, for instance--
so the muddy rain running meets
the thirsty crow, the child with wet socks, smiling.
I cannot give you my heart, and yet I must.
I will give, for instance--
the last sip from a still cold can
the bead that around my neck for you, has stayed warm.
I cannot bring you back, and yet I must.
I will bring, for instance--
Google up, & seek images and blue linkams
that pay homage to your name.
I cannot break the cycle and yet I must.
I will break, for instance--
my silence. But only the bored sea
will receive my howls, coz the moon has her head-phones on, again.
Meera Kaul Sawhney |