Topmost

Vishnupriya 

I saw  the crazy ant lift and pack

the humongous peanut on its back.

It could carry twenty times its slim weight

without a complaint for the loaded freight.

But this was way heavier than it thought

had a long battle to win having  fought.

It wasn’t the climbing so much

But holding on for a firm clutch.

Slipping, dropping, picking wasn’t fun

But once in the race you gotta run.

Till you climb the hilltop and plant your flag

While others at the bottom watch and lag.

The air’s thin at the top

Alone you see the drop.

Proud, happy whatever

None to share your fever.

That’s the reward or price

you’ve cast the fateful dice.

All you do is breathe thin

Far from the madding din.

Your are too high n’ further gone

Only there as destiny’s pawn

That we’ll  drool and  look up to

Also greet with rave rant boo.

You’ve got to stand firm

And complete your term.

Keep away from the brainfog

You’re no more the underdog.

It’s always lonely at the top, no space

For the lesser to befriend, win your race.

The Shell

Vishnupriya 

I listened to the shell 

the surf left a whisper in,

I’d heard it when the spring fronds

by the lake kissed each other

And baby turtle reclaimed the rustling green

under the Dogwood tree for its bassinet.

Then the beach sands made me 

a bed to soak in the love

the ocean was sending me

with its open arms.

I longed to get lost and taste

the briny wind on my face like a surfer

Not hear my echoes but new ones around 

Moving further and further away.

As everyone grieves for George Floyd in Houston, Texas, I pray for healing everywhere so his soul and that of the others may rest in peace and the world is redeemed. This is my prayer:

Not an Option

Vishnupriya

Fear is not an option because I still breathe.

Silence is not an option because I’m still human.

Losing it is not an option because I’m still fighting.

Love is an option because I’m part of Him.

Forgiveness after justice’s is done is the other

 because it will heal the wound.

Born free, we need to live free of bondage

of hate and injustice, in mercy merge.

Hallelujah!!

Like your breath

Vishnupriya 

Pain is like your breath

as long as you have it

gossamer thin, or a heavy knot.

It is the stench of rot

you push away

when you want to breathe free.

But it is also the love

knowing all that you lost 

without meaning to, a gasp.

And going on walking

when you can’t see the fine line

between reaching and trudging.

You can’t wish it away

It lifts when it wants to.

Colorless

Vishnupriya 

No matter whose-

Dreams have no hue, tears are color free,

Breath’s a-color, pain’s colorless,

Yet some only come colored for others

Seen through a prism of color

Running an unequal race through life.

Why does color lurk around us

Choking our breath and voices

so we can’t be heard or seen,

when we were born to breathe?

And all the killings looked upon

As a collage of numbers, not names

because the dead were once human?

Why are most protests labeled 

riots toppling passive status quo,

And marchers body slammed, teargassed,

pepper sprayed when they’re to be revered?

Why passive bystanders unlistening in
'battlespaces' don’t get prophylactic from a disease

festering for centuries ready to erupt

now that it can’t hold anymore?

Why is justice denied because

life’s strangled, peace put on choke hold,

The clock hands have much to unroll?

Not wanting more hate to unfold,

And systems to implode, push to

deconstruct  the broken, the shattered, 

Rebuild outside the margin of color,

So we can all breathe like siblings

In the land of the brave, not depraved.

Color coded
Vishnupriya

Color is potent, decisive, leading
to a point of no return.
Just an angry limb pressing on another,
A virus more lethal than Covid
going beyond the here and now,
decades or centuries, eons maybe,
And George Floyd is gone forever,
like the candle we snuff out
every birthday making a wish.
Did  George wish last birthday
to live beyond color? Or despite it?
But wishes come color coded
in the land of the free.
How long before a vaccine, a fix for hate,
anger, brute force of the worst degree?

Braids

I braid all my stories of

yesterday and today every night

for a sneak peek tomorrow, a dry run

before putting it out there for those who care..

I heard it knock on the door

Saw it  upclose strong resolute

But I gave it the slip, kept the door shut

And took the other road to the open ground.

I heard its rasping whisper in my ears

I plugged them with earbuds and

sang my own song so loud

it drowned the other voice.

I smelt the rot spread from

one to the other in the blink of an eye

And tasted the fallout of desperation

Yet chose my saner solitude instead.

I could sense its clammy palms

cold with sweat outstretched

I clung to my breath coming fast

and counted my blessings one by one.

The yester tales visit me

But I  look out the window where

all the blue green pink and white weave

warm blankets to snuggle in and cozy up.

Today’s not been easy but

I mean to make it  such

Walking loaded slows you down

But I mean to travel light.

Burrowing

Mum was at it again. Unbelievable! What time was it? He gasped looking at the alarm on the nightstand. It was 3 am. And it was the 120th day in a row. Anybody would have been impressed with her persistence. He wasn’t. He was petrified.

The shovel in her hand smelled of doom. She was digging, sniffing the ground. It reminded him of a wolverine, only she wasn’t predatory, innocuous really, almost pathetic. All the uprooted crocus and blood roots lay like dying soldiers looking for respite from the continued battery of days. She would replant them of course, but in the meantime they struggled to survive with these rude shocks in the middle of the night like him. The world was meant to be asleep at night, not unsettling roots deep in the soil.

But he knew she had to find all that lay buried. What was the point whatever she was after? Wouldn’t that unleash more tremors of seismic proportion? Especially now that his dad was dead.

He missed him so much. All the summer fishing by the lake, the bowling and baseball on weekends and making wooden trellises together in the shed for the creepers that needed support for climbing. All the hauling of soil in wheelbarrows planning the next move to beautify the garden  brought fresh hot tears. He wiped them away. He was not expected to grieve, he had to fit into his dad’s boots and carry on with his unfinished work. Men have to hold their grief hidden from others and in his case there was his mother’s grief to take care of besides all this digging business now.

But she wasn’t listening to anyone. He knew his mum; she could be stubborn.

“Ben I have to find the remains”, she had told him one morning when he had confronted her at breakfast.

“Your dad’s landscaping skills were phenomenal; he was in love with the garden. So, there’s nowhere but the garden that I should look to unearth what he hid. Not the attic, not the basement, not the shed, nor the garage, no closets either. It has to be the garden. And I’m looking.”

He had groaned and prayed hard that she would give up this hunt. Neighbors looked at them with suspicion having heard weird sounds coming from their garden.

“Stop Mum. It’s just too dark. Too late Mum. Please..,,?”

“ Look at these Ben. I found them under the tulips. Had to dig them out. Was worth it.”

She was sweating. He could see her bent back, wet muddy hands and grimy boots. She was trembling all over, not so much from the damp spring chill as much as from her discovery of what had slept hidden all this while. He looked at the stash in her hands: a plastic container with a bunch of Ziploc bags one inside the other containing a neat bundle of papers tied with a red satin ribbon. Plastic was non biodegradable he realized with a potential to preserve secrets from being destroyed. Some use, he thought, sitting there forever underground. More of a hazard than any good!

“Wrongs have to be righted. Always. Remember that Ben. Even if you don’t succeed, you need to do all you can. The effort counts in the final reckoning.”

What the hell was the matter with her? Was she losing it? What was the correlation of Judgment Day and all this absurd treasure hunt, if there was any treasure hidden in  these Ziplocs that is. What wrong? What right? He needed divine enlightenment this moment to decipher her code.

He went indoors. She was sobbing uncontrollably slouched on the loveseat in the family room.

“ We need to find her Ben. She’s out there waiting for a hug.”

Again her gibberish confounded him. He might have to consult a therapist, he should have thought of it earlier. All this strange digging at ungodly hours had taken a toll on her.

“ Poor Sophie never knowing love, nor a family. We have to bring her home.”

Her body was convulsed with so many emotions at once that it was hard to get her to come to her senses.

“ You’ll help me Ben, won’t you ? She needs our love, the love that your dad didn’t give her. “

“What the......!”

“ She’s your half-sister Ben living in an institution for the developmentally challenged. Look at her.”

His head was reeling. Something burst in his brain before he was able to stop it like shells bursting, a dynamite blast. Was it his dad’s picture on the mantelpiece smiling at him or was it Sophie’s in his mum’s hand that blinded him from understanding the reality? He waited for daybreak to clear his mind.

Distant Socially

I came back from my walk. Everyone says we need to improve our lung capacity, so walking is imperative. You might be able to fight the virus better with a robust lung and immune system. So I try. But I wanted to talk to Meg, my neighbor for over two decades now. I guessed she would have returned by now from walking Lou Lou, her Labrador Retriever.

Meg answered right away. I could sense a wistful note in her voice. It was unmistakable even over the phone. This isn’t the plucky Meg I know, I thought.

“Hey what’s up Meg, why do you sound so low?”

“ You know I really get the need for social distancing  given the situation, no complaints really. Look, I couldn’t hug you when I saw you in the park yesterday , right? And both of  us understood it perfectly. It’s not us, but Lou Lou.”

“ What about Lou Lou?”

Meg hesitated for a split second, then blurted out.

“ Lou Lou is feeling it. She’s really upset today.”

“Aw, why is she feeling sorry?”

“ She’s having a meltdown. Can’t take this social distancing stuff anymore. Am at my wit’s end. She isn’t eating well at all. If she gets sick, I wouldn’t know what to do at this point. The vet who’s such a mighty help is down with the virus. Where am I supposed to take her?”

Pets are a huge responsibility, I know.  But I couldn’t understand how social distancing could impact Lou Lou so deeply that she’d lost  her appetite. This was worrisome. Neither could I help Meg in any way by looking out  for new vets to take Lou Lou to because most vets weren’t open the regular hours during this pandemic. I could bring pet food and leave it on Meg’s driveway. and that would be the most help I could manage. But I couldn't go any closer.

I’ve always felt anxious for Meg because she was in the group of immuno-compromised people. It was heightened  now ever since I was told that this virus absolutely loves such groups of people. She is now recovering from her third surgical intervention of a stubborn tumor that keeps returning to different parts of her brain every now and then. But Meg is built of sterner stuff than this malignant  tumor and fights hard. Every time she comes home from the hospital, she  grins in pride showing me a victory sign over her head. I always love her then like no one else. She fills me with courage all the time. In fact she’s my catalyst.

So it was odd  that she should be feeling the blues on Lou Lou's account.

“Why is Lou Lou having a meltdown?”

“ It’s troubling because she’s not sleeping either. Always restless and moping at the drop of a hat. Very morose.”

“ Could you guess the reason, Meg?”

“ Oh I  think she needs an antidepressant probably. Her vet would know, I’m sure.”

“ I mean why is she depressed?”

“ She really misses her boyfriend Hector. Hector’s owners aren’t bringing him to the park anymore ever since this crazy pandemic broke out and we were told to follow the CDC’s social distancing guidelines. Lou Lou’s not getting why we seem to go play fetch alone in the park when it’s totally empty. Previously, we would synchronize their game time together. You know how social Lou Lou is, friendly to a fault. ”

I knew then that canine distancing was the inevitable fallout of human social distancing. What an unforeseen consequence. Lou Lou would possibly get over it in course of time just as we would sometime in the future.Meanwhile Meg had a lot on her plate. Poor soul.

Absentmindedly I kept tickling Munchkin’s neck while she lazily yawned at me with perfect contentment as though she seemed to say the world was too unnecessary for me to be so worried about. I’ve often seen her reprove me at my most trying moments and have envied her superior indifference of all things mundane. Nothing, absolutely nothing ruffles her Persian fur. At times I’ve suffered her disdainful look as if she’s royalty and I am her attendant lady. I have felt mortified plenty of times whenever she’s deigned to convince me that she has a mind of her own and might be able to help me for a change if I considered the proposition.

We were watching TV and she was curled up like a ball of wool in my warm lap with eyes closed- her favorite  cuddle time.She was the very picture of snugness totally divorced from the world outside and kept purring from time to time. And it was then that she gave me an idea.

“ Meg I have an idea.”

“Okaay...?”

“ You know Lou Lou and Munchkin could have play dates if you are up to it. I think  sometimes she looks at Lou Lou condescendingly, like she always does with everyone, but she likes to play around in the backyard by herself and is pretty inventive. She could do with a playmate. They could both use the trampoline to entertain themselves. What do you say?”

“Oh this is brilliant. Love the idea. We could take turns. Once in my backyard and once in yours and the rest of the time they could watch Animal Planet. Lou Lou dotes on the elephants.”

“ Yeah two friends getting together to work around their boredom. We can’t be together. They can.”

I know Lou Lou well enough to expect that she would be a little hesitant initially with Munchkin’s superciliousness of all creatures, because Munchkin thinks of herself as the wisest feline  to grace the earth. This isn’t lost on Lou Lou, but she would accept her out of the generosity of her canine heart, I hope. Duress brings out the best in everyone and maybe my precious Munchkin might start feeling slightly less vain and more welcoming.

Time to observe a canine- feline bonding during a transition . I am looking forward to this new excitement in my otherwise confined living at this moment in history.

Virtual

I have been thinking lately. When Eliot says,

 “April is the cruellest month, breeding 

Lilacs out of  the dead land,  mixing 

Memory and desire, stirring 

Dull roots with spring rain."

he isn’t wrong at all. Look at April 2020 breeding direness. Our memory of everything hunky dory is mixing with our desire to regain our older life back. The spring rain is stirring up our vulnerabilities and exposing us to new fatalities. Sadly everything is reduced to a virtual reality. Meetings are virtual, classrooms are virtual, church services and temple aratis are virtual, expressing  affection is virtual. We are zooming and live streaming like never before.We are in the age of physical distancing and social isolation to survive the virus. This isn’t a regular human response unless you are in solitary confinement atoning for a sin. Maybe we all are for our collective sins as part of the human race.

 

Despite the encircling gloom of becoming somewhat dehumanized, I saw these pink spring blossoms while taking a walk in the Hidden Lake area near my home and fell head over heels in love with them. Fortunately they are not virtual. They are blooming bursting with hope. Craving for a hug,  I hugged the tree instead and kissed the pink flowers in my hand because in this new reality we are allowed to do just that. I opened my window to let their color seep into my soul and spread their wings like a bird taking flight. It wasn’t a virtual feeling, it was real because I started  humming a tune momentarily forgetting the crisis around. Such  healing that is completely free of the hefty charges of a professional therapist enveloped me with a sense of cool quiet. So comforting.

I saw my neighbor walk her dog right then. Not an usual sight at all. But what compelled me to stop and watch was how she took Lou Lou to the empty park inside the development and played fetch with her pet.  She had a ball and a twig in her hand and every time Lou Lou brought it back to Meg, she kept hugging her and patting her paws and showering her with kisses while Lou Lou looked at her with the most loving eyes. I hadn’t seen Meg kiss Lou Lou so often ever before and we’ve been neighbors for the last two decades almost. She was probably answering a deep seated human need in her for togetherness. When Meg saw me watching from what seemed more than 60 feet away, she first thought of coming close to shake my hands, then backed away sending a ❤️  sign my way and shook Lou Lou’s paws again. I got the hint, took off my mask and smiled my biggest smile hoping she’d understand how much I wanted to hug her too. I think we succeeded in communicating our affection for each other virtually  through signs. But her nearness to Lou Lou both physical and emotional was real, not virtual in the least. She has survived cancer; she will hopefully survive this isolation as well with Lou Lou beside her.

We’ve suddenly become more sensitive to our surroundings. I marveled at a forwarded picture that my friend sent me of a saffron sunset on a spring evening. Her son, a high school junior, took the picture.  He is probably looking out the window more often these days with virtual classrooms covering only a fraction of his normal school hours. He has a lot of time hanging on his hands now with soccer(contact sport) taking a backseat for the time being. He is using new eyes now to admire a beautiful twilight. This appreciation and acknowledgement is real, not virtual, because he catalyzed his mother’s vision as well. Both of them saw the sundown together. This is not in any sense virtual because the photograph capturing a fleeting sensation is real and can be admired by everyone. Nature can’t be locked down.

We must give thanks for all these wonderful daily experiences that normally we have little time to dwell on. A break from our hyper rushed schedules every single day suddenly arrested is giving us time to acknowledge our real environment and a space for introspection. I welcome this but I am also mindful of the horrific viral situation around. So I am in a meditative mood to welcome healing everywhere. Hope we will emerge from this crisis with the wisdom to be more compassionate and caring of the universe of which we are such a minuscule part. God bless!

NYC Mojo

NYC  mojo the dense energy deadly now

but the tough love of Yorkers undaunted

the forever fighters against the insidious beast:

Those needing care waiting for home.

Those caring have forsaken home.

Only gods at work with nothing but love

Ghostly streets, eerie, sinister

as though lifeless lies the giant

the pulse, the throb, the very hum of the

promise waiting to unfurl its wings clipped,

Now the margins sealed, the spills stopped

A roaring machine now a grinding halt.

The tug of the street soul: of kebabs or falafel

with salad on pita with Lebanese flourish

the steaming urgency of rushing bodies

the subway and the sidewalks all driven

to the tallest buildings otherwise bullish

the babble of a million tongues, faces from all over

on the steps of the MET the halls of MOMA

the warm hug of the Big Apple wall-to-wall

Hudson’s amber sunset touching Liberty’s call

the fragrant park walks n the performers will nudge

when the fear’s done n  the fever’s gone

as the Phoenix from the ashes rises once again.

Cautious

Empty inside the quiet Subway

Upturned chairs over the tables,

Both of us masked, she’s gloved as well

I chatter my order of a footlong with

turkey breast all toasted and covered

with choice of veggies slathered with a light

Mayo and spicy mustard with hot jalapeno pickle.

She hasn’t said a word, her hands are quick

I start to wonder and then she says suddenly

as if in answer to my thoughts,” I try not to speak”.

I sense her caution just as she senses my wonder.

Covid19 has made us better sensors of each other.

She served me sustenance today

Am  prayerful for her gracious succour.

Grieving during Quarantine

Swapna di passed away. She didn’t succumb to the virus but her passage during the quarantine was even more poignant because so many were constrained from attending her funeral services. Some like me were daunted by the state of New Jersey’s mandatory social distancing guidelines and the curfew in the evening. So we condoled and mourned electronically. This is the new norm until this pandemic passes. And yet in the midst of all this fear and anxiety, Pronoy da’s calm equanimity is a lesson for me.

The Romans taught us stoicism, but even before that the Vedic rishis exemplified the concept of Sthitadhi. Lord Krishna  guided Arjuna to adopt this mindscape in the battlefield of Kurukshetra. But in the face of adversity, loss and personal grief, it is so easy to fall from this ideal. You are only human and so you give in to the human weaknesses. So when someone defies human frailty and elevates himself above the normal human emotions despite the load of sadness and sorrow, he is someone we look up to and emulate.

Even after losing the love of his partner for the last five decades or more, and  having seen her combat physical trauma, Pronoy da can still think of a beautiful love song “Pronoy tomar michhe noy.” How uplifting is that, you wonder. The soul is steeped in love for humanity at a level way beyond personal loss: altruistic and benign. Pronoy da has so much to give and teach us yet. A wise soul is a privilege for us to have around. We are grateful to you.

We all have our personal battles with sickness and sorrow at different points in our lives. But it’s how we face them is what decides the outcome. Pronoy da has continued to amaze me with his resilience and true grit while fighting his own battles. This has motivated me to face my own personal challenges without complaining much. Acceptance is an immensely helpful tool. It enables you to be humble and open, amplifying your mind rather than constricting it. In that state of being we end up helping ourselves and more importantly helping others. That is a very liberating feeling. It is up to us how we nurture this one life of ours to beautify and sublimate it and that of  many others.

The Ashes

He had been waiting  for the phone call from the hospital. Why hadn’t they called in the last three days? They had promised they would. It wasn’t right at all, but he didn’t know what else to do other than wait.

Last time he called them they promised to get back . They hadn’t of course. These days of waiting had drained his sap away. Just an honest answer from them would be enough. He wasn’t that soft in the head not to understand this delay tactic.

But no one these days tells you the truth anymore, especially if it hurts. Not even Mom. He was always trying to protect her but it was lost on her. The last five days she was running a low grade fever with an ever so slight a cough, almost like her normal springtime allergies, and yet she was fantasizing about a Scandinavian calming of senses. She wanted to wrap herself in gray and white and surround herself with a Swedish vibe to be oblivious of the dire predictions on TV. She was in denial, he knew. But the spa was closed of course. The Covid19 onslaught, the deaths, the waiting for the PPE’s for the life givers and ventilators for the critically ill, and the hope of those wanting to come back home was a whole new reality.

But he knew she couldn’t possibly block out the electronic and online noise about man’s most recent combat against a lethal  invisible enemy despite his urging to shut out the blasts. Maybe he was the one needing  a buffer to distance reality. Until now she had always shielded him from everything , now it was his turn to do the same to his mom. He was trying his best.

He was a caged bird knowing only the confines of the walled-in existence could be helpful for her. Most people his age had never heard the word quarantine mentioned. Hanging out at the smoke bar was a story out of the pages of a history book now. He had to give Mom a chance. He hadn’t given one to his grandpa. He would live the rest of his life with the cruel reminder of sunbathing on the beaches and pub hopping while carrying nothing but an infinitesimal virus to pass on to his favorite human being on the planet: his Dada. Life comes too loaded at times.

They were quarantined: isolated, insulated in their own island. Waiting it out. And then would they be allowed? With every single day he felt stripped of the least dignity that an inevitable  end of life situation signified for family members wanting to perform the  mourning  rituals to say goodbye to a loved one. The soul’s journey to another life was lonely, but so was theirs in secluded mourning, sequestered for what seemed an eternity.

For the millionth time, he wished he hadn’t sneaked in Dada’s favorite Marlboro to the nursing home. He knew Dada had emphysema and smoking was the hugest no-no. But then even lonely old people need treats sometimes to cheer them up in their isolation. And he himself couldn’t have felt better. Just back from his spring break on the Miami beach, he wanted to make grandpa feel special as well. Who’d have known?

The telephone was ringing.

“ It was the funeral home Mom, not the hospital.”

“Did they promise to keep the ashes for us until whenever?”

“Yeah they’ll hold on to the urn.”

“ We will give him a decent farewell Dev and drown the ashes in the holy river someday, right?”

Someday, that would be his atonement. Yes, someday he would also confess to her.

Front lines Redefined

The front lines have shifted from the borders

of Mexico and Canada to

right within, beside and around us everywhere.

Ammunitions missing, buffers missing

Yet the combat is on.

Courage and sacrifice the shields to

fight the invisible, the lethal, the ruthless.

Hercules killed the Nemean with bare hands

Our soldiers unarmed in the cage are

engaged in their labor of love

Bringing healing reminding us of the

Amazing Grace upon them.

Come and Go

Leaders come and go

Governments rule and misrule

Pundits caution and catalyze

But viruses attack and leave

a residue of all consuming fear,

paying no heed to borders or color,

race nor religion, language or status.

That’s its upside though,

coz no one talks of terror now

or all other inanities.

It’s way too terrifying, too overpowering,

We break apart, we break down.

Hunkering down in our own shelters

unified we ponder those on the precipice

may not make it. We are prayerful.

Since millennia the timeline

of humanity traces disruptions

again and again and again.

We survive these glitches,

resilience works and the tough endure,

History’s recorded anew for those who follow.

Awesome isn’t it,? But true!

We build again, join once more

Humanity heals and breathes again.

Attitude of Gratitude

My heart is overflowing right this moment:

No surprise there is food still on

the shelves and meds as well.

Tired faces sleepless so gracious

whispering kindness removed from

the chatter of those powerful but indecisive, misdirected.

No surprise magically the garbage removed,

my heart bursts with a million thanks and

I stand  both my thumbs up for the

Waste Management truck plodding.

The mail woman even smiles at me from

 forever away, gloved hands pushing

 people’s mail into the mailbox.

Miraculously my car gets a gas refill

and the masked attendant wishes me

best of health! Really?

Aren’t you more exposed than me

being in the woods while I’m home alone?

The faucet still gushes with running water

and am humbled when I turn on the heat and light

coz the energy workers have our backs.

Amazing that the phone works and

the media anchors keep us rooted, grounded

 in a functioning democracy.

The man in uniform at the intersection

nudges me as I return from the CVS realizing

it’s curfew already. Am still getting used to a new reality.

but Law Enforcement is at work thank God!

Masked(?), gowned(?) gloved(?) hopefully

our very own Gods saving humanity

sacrifice incarnate!

We are in it together, and we will get there,

In the meantime-

I want to hug each of them

from miles away and say

Thank you for caring for us all.

But feel no thanks is  enough.

What if I told you

What if I told you that you

put a song in my heart when

your eyes peered into my soul and

made me someone bigger than me.

Now I stand in a pool of sallowness in

 the saging of the heart the waging of the war

with all that forces my body to fade

into a specter rather wasted but

gallant in the face of forces

pretending to be stronger than me.

What if I told you that I sing the song

still in my dreams and waking.

Will that lift us up?

Will you keep holding my hand and

breathe your promise as you did once?

Faith everlasting.

  Bulrushes by the wayside                                                               

By the wayside  bulrushes grow wild

whacked by the wind as the cars speed by

They will purify the river just

 wayward flowing towards no sea

Ages of muck sitting at the bottom

have to be scrubbed clean bring in the surge

reach the sea surf  rest after the tumult.

Alone in the open with the wind

on the face the scent of grass I taste

the anthem of  blue jays in my heart

 raindrops in my soul the spring in me

The wilderness around my solace

the angry storm raging  cow me down

but I am  brave inside sure I can.

Rainbow

While

White smoke unfurls curls upwards

from the tall steel pipes to touch the clouds,

The furnace blasts bloody fire ruby red also neon blue,

You held my hand your lips on mine,

Like base metal to gold I melted like the black ore,

Bloody fire in my veins too piercing my very core.

Breathing in breathing out an awareness:

I am the light like you and can

listen to our silence within .

Love tempers solders  emboldens uplifts

Leavens  the humdrum tears all bounds,

Ride the rainbow and hear the plainsong

everywhere.