Showing posts from April, 2024

Sine qua non

In a world of ephemeral, or what we also know as MAYA(largely rooted in the Indian philosophical concept of Māyā, Maya means "illusion"), the loss feels real; the loss feels permanent. How? Why? "How does it feel to wake up to the Date Palms its shamrock fingers wrapped in marigold rays Does it leave its hue on the busy canvas a magic that visits you every day. To the bells of church and kinder songs and cinnamon wafting from the rolls that rise a bakery of hope to hold you strong you look forward to the familiar surprise. The lullaby of the placid waves as you sleep with the Pacific in your eyes Does it rock you to a world so far Where dreams and desires crystallize. And yet, the palms, the waves, the bells that ring Is winter forever without your spring for when you lose the one you loved you lose a piece, your everything. and that is just how love operates and that is how loss communicates the canary song that once felt so right mourns silently in the charcoal night

It's a Mom's Thing

Cooing, cuddling, cajoling, commanding... A mother's modus operandi changes, but her love for her child does not. At a subterranean level, her child continues to be in her womb, even with long limbs that can't fit in her embrace. Her enduring love, juxtapositioned against the changing ripples and tides of time as the child grows, presents a complicated predicament- hold on or let go. Eventually, she knows her destiny; however, she cannot deny that she feels betrayed, not by her child but by what she believed in when she held him for the first time- he will forever be mine. Torn between the autonomy that the child craves and the many small and big separations that result as a consequence, makes her sometimes feel abandoned, remorseful, and lost. The poem is about that moment in a mother's life and can almost sound like an elegy to what once was. The usage of words like cyclone, to some readers, may appear hyperbolic, but to her, the absence of a miniature motion of love is n