Her Cycles of Boons, Curses and Vows
There is just one open window the eyes are blurred, night like the details fade with the day’s growth birds drift in and out of the room like the story of Karna a boon-child is cursed. How can we avoid the beginning of the inevitable, after the war somewhere a whole season hides among our daily wishes and fears I am not sure of what gift waits to be commissioned in this erratic phase of lawlessness. The earth seems to wait these small creepers fight for survival in an adult world pure bodies are violated by Desire. What mode of matters of the heart will work like a magic? All needs seem to end by a distant sound of whimper. You groaned, and moaned you bled, screamed and cried.
Magic in Deep Breathings
This is a morning, birds are out trees wear the spirit of rejoicing I meet some sleep drowsy eyes through a long thin curtain of faith Ageing parents are looking at each other weariness is a conversation with faded colours My playmates, I meet some of you these days many of you have stopped playing I remember all my dreams hovering around my heroes and hearts, cover to cover Green trees watch me growing in numbers as I meet their questioning eyes., stones, fish, rivers In a reckless dedication I make my links native all winged seeds are back in my thoughts A promised sun rises as the worshippers have come here with fruits and flowers I allow myself to be taken in when flowers are numb-wet with morning mist, desire dancing in hues. Deep breathings… quietly quietly
