With velvet allure
And winter pinecrest demure
I’ll kiss you some more!
Seasonal Passions
love
If love is not…
If love is not fear
It must be bravery
Bravery to fight the demons
That fuel all our fears
Bravery to stand tall and breathe in air
Knowing it is the shield in life
If love is not guilt
It must be freedom
Freedom to confront
The choices you’ve made
Choices leading to hurt
Then freedom to choose your healing
If love is not judgement
It must be acceptance
Acceptance that all is
Just how it’s meant to be,
And that there is a path
Not of good or bad,
But of learning and discovery
So love is… bravery
Love is…freedom
And love is… acceptance
Love in its deepest form
Is acknowledgement,
That there is YOU
You in this time
You with this life
You with all your
Demons and divinity,
Making the wholesomeness
You are meant to be.
Soulful Beauty
Dedication in remembrance of my brother, Dipak💞
Window to Love
Pressed against the pane,
Cool then misted
Clear then obscure.
Convinced my love
I was waiting for.
Eyes searching
Heart yearning
Feeling empty like a shell.
The rays of light
Giving rise to the rainbow
Bring nature’s embrace by color.
Below my window,
Bees saying hello
Kissing the tips of lavender buds.
Swooning in the late afternoon sky,
Starlings riveting dance
Spilling the vision of romance.
No latch to keep out
My love surrounded me
All whilst sitting on my window sill
Rakshabandan
You arrive and greet
This morning of Rakshabandan.
As always, in full bloom
With unequivocal light and love.
This symbolic yellow rose
Stops me in my tracks
As you, brother, embodied
It’s rich depth and warmth.
Saving me from my sorrow
I see how love transverses all.
Physically no longer side by side
Yet our spirits still unite.
Our bond is clear
My brother dear,
As you remain with and between us,
Your loving sisters.
Today is Rakshabandan, the day of celebrating the bond between a brother and sister. The yellow rose is the symbol, my two sisters and I chose, that represents our departed beloved brother, Dipak.
From an unknowing third party, what should the universe send my way today of all days, but a yellow rose surrounded equally by three buds! What an image of our sibling unity!
Loving the Child Within
In the dark,
Shivering and cold,
I remember you.
Laughed at, ridiculed
Ashamed.
Needing to disappear,
I remember you.
Searching for that look
Of approval.
Wanting that comforting
Hug.
Instead,
Feeling unseen
And left behind.
Now all grown up.
But I still remember you.
I remember you
Because I was you.
I saw you
And I see you now.
I held you
And I hold you still.
With a kindness,
A guidance,
A protection
Divine,
I have grown.
Grown to know
The great power of true love.
The kind that holds
The stars in place,
The sun at bay,
The moon for play.
Is this a fairytale
Or supreme astrophysics?
Either way
I must be loved.
How else
Could I be protected,
Be free to witness
Explore and come to know
The Might.
That surrounds
Nurtures and holds,
Both me and the stars.
Mates of the same soul…
For some,
I am a representation
Of their enamor with another.
For some,
They see me but fear my thorns.
For others
I’m too dainty to touch or unreachable.
But you,
You find me though I hide.
You see
Not only my contours, hues and parts,
But my longing, luster and love.
With your lens and your gaze,
You cast away my shadows.
Make my surrounding disappear,
Give me center stage
Bringing me into existence,
And then make me immortal.
Hovering and circling
You embrace
Even dance me.
Moving from a steadfast stance
To glorious highs of the smoothest rhythms.
Finally, we find our place
Where the moment is captured,
With a knowing that the frame,
Shows how we are mates
Of the same soul.
Shelter In Home
Comes natural to the hermit
Enforced on the convicted.
A sort of imprisonment
Intended to safe guard.
And today,
The likes of me and you
With access to the essentials
Water, food and light.
But little preparation
With unheeded forewarning,
The mind is unconditioned
The body unable to relax.
As sources of entertainment fade
The confines close in,
And the loss of freedoms
Begin to set in.
What is most amiss?
The face to face
To see and feel
To interact, to feel of significance.
At heart we are social.
Beings in need of beings.
So here lies opportunity
To reach out in solidarity.
Break free of the concepts,
Traits of greed and fear.
Evolve to enable
Humanity at its best.
Perhaps the greatest outcome
Is yet to be seen,
As from our strife and grief
We learn the truest meaning
Of the real ‘Shelter in Home’.
For you are the home
Where the grandest one
Chooses to reside.
So take the time now given,
To acquaint and befriend.
Meditate in your solace
On the place most neglected.
Uncover your buried gifts
Your allies, your strengths
Your inner peace and joys.
The key to this realm
Is to deflect and rebuke
The noise, the distractions
Of the exterior, the illusions.
With these layers
Of shelter in home,
Be kind
Be gracious
Be in gratitude.
For you are ‘home’
And in home
Of the greatest of arms.
Madness of March
From the maddening crowds
Masked with mayhem,
To voluntary quarantine
And prohibited movement
The making of mass hysteria.
Heads rise above the cellphone
Our seeming invincibility
Suddenly cracked open
Finally we see each other.
Is it with empathy or fear?
Is it with comradeship or disdain?
With opposing forces
Hand in hand
How are we to survive?
How are we to accept them all?
Looking to Mother Nature
She shows constant dichotomies
Where the unlikely
Co-habit and even thrive.
On the hardened brittle bark
Beauty resides
As blooms spring forth
Soft and sumptuous.
From murky stagnant pools
Emerge the pristine lotus flowers,
No looking back or down
Just rising with a divine grace.
So this March
Is like no other,
Tests and trials
All yet to come.
Let not madness reign
As the confusion may prevail,
Rather rise with fortitude
And generosity of heart.
What comes, must pass
So lose not sight,
And ask of yourself
What are my powers
Which are constant,
Restoring and sustaining.
Coming Home
Sitting on a bench
Sharing our stories of
George Eliot
The pen named writer
The high school we all attended
The hospital where you were born
Once in the forefront
Then the backdrop
Of our lives
Sitting on a bench
Sharing our stories of
Riversley Road park
With the parading peacock
The pristine bowling green
The wading pool and bandstand
And of course the Museum
Once in the forefront
Then the backdrop
Of our lives
Sitting on bench
Sharing our stories
Outside
Abbey Theater
With new friends in times of need
Old ones re-acquainted
Once in the forefront
Then the backdrop
Of our lives
All these memories were fortunately made
So stories now can be re-told
And I can still cherish you
No matter how quickly
The two years have flown by
rhythmandthedancer 