Under a moonless sky

I yearn for light

A star to name

Or at the least

Claim

The optimism of going

Postpones the time of arrival

The unlikeliness

Of a rapid return

Accelerates the journey home

Time

Both objective and subjective

Both of which

Offer truth

None of which decide you

None of which decide who

Who learns through silence

Who shares through noise

The realms of certainty

Are most certainly

As vague as the dream of reality

What can be said of this voyage?

From birth we traverse to death

Yet

Even after the flame is extinguished

And our breath returns to its genesis

What then?

What fear is found beyond folly

Who then?

Who will transcend the boundary?

Everything with walls

Physical and ideological

Resist change

While masquerading as virtue

I had to leave

The grass was not greener

But at least

There was grass

Bare feet on cemented thought

Crippled my courageous shot

From our respective corners we fought

Beckoned

By the stillness of a moment

I exhaled

I exhaled

If I had stayed

There would be no return

If I had stayed

Perhaps you,

You in all your colour

Sound and vulnerability

Would have experienced

No private heartache

No public cries

If I had stayed

Night would have surely protested

The coming of morning

If I had stayed

There would be no return

If I had stayed

The fragments that formed

A fractured me

Would be all you speak of

If I had stayed

The eluded home

At the foot of hopeless hill

Would celebrate my absence

If I had stayed

Why didn’t I stay?

Spinning out of control

Or considerably faster

Faster than the days of old

We anticipate the inevitable fall

 Yet, if what ascends

Remains rooted in truth

Surely the fall

Our Fall and possibly theirs

Will be absent of sound

Dying leaves will avoid ground

Like that flowing ocean

Lingering in stillness

Apologetic tears

Unwilling to shower cheeks

Screams silenced before ears

Beauty tainted by fear

Serenity, agitated then distilled for years

We blame the empty bottles

The ones left out in the rain

Clutching them like priceless treasures

Taking sips

 Hoping to quench our soil

Unwittingly sowing the red earth

 Despite how perfectly it fit the frame

It was dryer than our desert

And its essence resurrected the pain

Still, we committed the doing

While being the happening

If this greyish sky of modernity

Could reconcile the winds of our story

Perhaps, all waves could give light

And we, critics of lies

Respectful of cries

Mindful of ties

Will allow it everlasting peace

Freeing burdens from our chest

Like a flying kite

The present will stand unmoved by the past

Like a flying kite

Can we soar to unknown heights?

I stay at a hostel for the dead

Waiting on voices

Or the god with the elephant head

Down the Ghats

 Dusty feet are led

Searching for truth in word

And inward

Hungry for an epiphany

I collapse in Maya

Cows observe with quiet confidence

They pity my condition

They offer no omens

Jailed behind bars of identity

Frozen by every false dichotomy

Even Sadhus frighten me

In the pauses, will silence speak?

Let it burn

May it burn peacefully

If possible, let the lesser limb go first

The Ganges awaits

With fire in hand and sand between toes

The first born circles the body

Invoking spirits of time

My eyes blink for meaning

Where’s the refuge in smoke?

The Mother’s here

She hasn’t spoken

If She does, will pilgrims listen?

I’ve come to learn

But can’t sit through Her lessons

The senses behind beliefs

Communal invitations from the land

Music pulsating from its hands

Awakens insanity

I return to the hostel

Where there’s no release

And sleep

 Ignorantly

Tonight, the dancer dies

No more pirouettes across enemy lines

No movement, music or signs

Appropriated choreography lies

Blood covered feet

Audiences paying for sun

Seated years away from the ones they shun

Witness life depicted in dread

First falls the spotlight

Then caves the stage

Reactions of betrayal and rage

There’s no peacekeeper in sight

When curtains rip

The backstage is revealed

Lizard looking directors,

floor managers and decorators

Escape, if you will

But the dancer’s fate is sealed

Sheet Music
The delivery of music
For us, she plays
The winds are acoustic
We listen for ways
When there’s no last try
Oh, setting sun
Nobody weak cries
Our funeral starts with a wedding
Consequences of faith
Tragedy replayed
Desperate souls never wait
With irony, I serenade
The sheets are blank
We see, only what we know
A closed mic of this cruel prank
Silences the crowd, ending our show

 Sour candy for their happiness

Her levels of illusion flirt with bliss

The eyes of the hungry

Sedate

Before they become angry

The poor offer soldiers

While the rich profit

Where is the freedom and opportunity?

What’s accessible without money?

We study

Under the guise of education

Ivory towers

 Policies of elimination

Auctioned-off minds recall conversations,

With contrite and owner-less souls

Hold your breath for me

Let me float

 Numberless days

The forgetting kind

Whoredom taken lightly

A nation cries

While its children die

Ploughing through scriptures

Searching for reasons

They will be given, “no why”

Elders, remember the days of old

When those pursuing worthless things

Were considered worthless

Doors stayed open

Altars never closed

Answers were found

Elders, look at a polluted today

Will they examine the role they play?

The smiles of the wicked

Lure many away

Steer many astray

The lies they sell as life

The money they spend for strife

The contracts for abandoning right

Leaves the womb empty

Leaves our womb empty

His dad wants him dead

He lost the house

The same night he lost head

Almost put up his wife

To cover the spread

Backed into a familiar corner

Roughed up by goons

He sells his name

Then leaves the room

The money that’s owed

The money he borrowed

His life was troubled

By tragic fumbles

Failed recoveries

He seeks solace in solitude

While sleeping with lies

On his gambler’s bed

My Uncle Tom can’t afford a holiday

I’ll take a long walk on Saturday

Friday will be my last day on the plantation

A civil war won’t guarantee emancipation

My Uncle Tom is offering me a job

Small gangster, he works for the mob

Brags about his savings and bonds

Smoking poison to forget his wrongs

Since his brother died, he’s been filled with pride

None of us were dealt a hand of wealth

Laboring, but still broke

Breathing, afraid to choke

I contemplate

 Perhaps suffering is my fate

Tired of being used as bait

Today, I sit

 I wait

If the solution is political, not celestial

Waiting on a miracle seems pitiful

Evil pounds on my chest

Threatening to put my body to rest

My soul is aching, to reach its final destination

Thumping at the door

Awakes me, I’m dreaming no more

My Uncle Tom walks in with papers

Saying I can sign now or later

Language I can’t decipher

My Uncle Tom’s English is no better

In primary school he signed away his life

If I flee, I’m the fool

Uncle Tom, I know my rent is due

But remember how they tortured my father

Can I please leave with you?

Emotional mirages

Indescribable senses

Euphoria for a minute

Depression for two

The music in melancholy

The joy in pain

The tones in black

No gray

Just a kind of blue

Shadows of night

Shades of right

The scent of a sunny day

Sounds lead to play

Recollection

Memories in ashtrays

Cheesecake on birthdays

Hugs on Sundays

Mass consumption

Power in the masses

Unlearn

Untrue

Fluid

Like skin cells

Morphing into flesh

After the morning dew

Comes rest