I live in the Grand Canyon,
a chasm between
where I am and
where I want
to be;
A dry river bed that once
bubbled over with mirth, raindrops
and sparklings garnets along the
banks of the gentle Teesta.
We hang nets to dry, on
the ropes that gag us, and
strain skyward to remind ourselves
of how unforgiving blue can be.
Over on the other side, the
desert rocks moan
narratives of mothers, babes born tense,
and lesser wars.
Riding spider legs
on the long trudge home,
I am Ophelia, I am Atlas,
powder within, plaster without
and the best is night
when the walls mirror roof mirrors deep, deep heart
and we stand on a cliff
windless, sail-less, bending over
backwards
to
just
be.
Wisdom Wears Neon Pyjamas 
“If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry. ” – Emily Dickinson
I’m cold and goosebumped here: and you offer the choicest selection of my fears here.
Incandescent, for the lack of a better word.
Nino’s Mum: I can’t help but wonder how similar the bouquets of fears we tote around are. And also whether we have company.
anil: Well, we are kinda neon around here. 🙂
Nice!
It reminded me of I Dare You To Move by Switchfoot 🙂
Oh,and the “gentle” Teesta?
Am I missing anything here?
As I remember it,the Teesta gushes angrily forth,especially during the months of July and August….
OJ, this was just so beautiful.
And moving.
Vidya: When I made her acquaintance in late October many years ago, she was terribly pleasant and invited me to go garnet-picking in her bed while she behaved. A beautiful river, that one.
dipali: It’s amusing how a piece about being in limbo can be moving. No? 😉
You *Dwell*
Like a bell
Going ding dong
Singing a sad song
Mirroring a deep deep hell?
“strain skyward to remind ourselves / of how unforgiving blue can be.” Lovely.
Aunty G: Well oh well,
Your lim’ricks are swell,
When you’ll pull ’em out of your pocket
And swing-it-and-sock-it
One can never tell!
Anindita: 🙂