Sunday 6 March 2022

Viral Woman

 


The woman from Delhi, and the one from Kashmir, both earlier this year,
and the one on telly, from somewhere near here,
and many more; beautiful names they bore.
Many more, far too many more;
Oh the beauty and the terror in the names they bore!

Each one of them, when her screams were choked,
was it a prayer or a curse that she invoked?

Was it a prayer or a curse that she invoked
when her scream was choked?

Her scream has gone viral.
In a smoky spiral, spreads
into other women
her pain;
pain, viral, vaginal, spiritual, cultural, eternal..….
No woman now is only herself.
Woman gone viral!

She is the aborted female foetus,
the bound bloody foot, sad
told she is mad and bad,
frigid if she says no,
a whore if she wants a go,
too sassy, too small,
too smart, too tall,
sold, controlled,  butted, rutted, survivor….

Forever survivor,
screaming louder and louder………
in spite of the fables glorifying her abuse,
minimised by media, made back page news,
physiology,  psychology used as excuse.

In an age beyond abolition,
emancipation
and human rights,
she fights
for life;
a crucible
about to ignite.



Wednesday 8 September 2021

Travel

 


 



There are places in my mind I will not go to,

perhaps a void

or a place of pain,

of unbridled longings,

even a fistful of sunshine,

or surrender to some secret gods.

There are places in my mind I will not go to.

 

Flying over the Hindukush mountains

with the soft bloom of apricot valleys,

acrosss rivers, ravines and ridges

through deodar forests,

past ancient monasteries,

beyond icy passes and snowy peaks,

perhaps to a point of no return.

 

 

 August 21

Snoozedance

 


Dance, to keep old age at bay,

they keep saying, since my last birthday.

 

You hate skiing, and you hate swimming,

your mind and body’ll start ageing.

 

Here’s some reggae, they say, just sway,

sashay your hips, it’s fun, like play.

 

Foxtrot and tango? I could, I would,

but a snooze on the sofa is just as good.

 

 August 2021

Under one sky




 


the weekly street sweeper

--faded tattered dress

fresh black eye--

rattled our garden gate

to refill her water bottle

 

‘he got drunk again’

--flat tone

straight back--

avoiding the insistent gaze of blue marks

peeping through my silk scarf

 

august 21

 

 

SHADOWPLAY

 


there is a battlefield of shadows
just beyond me

sparrowhawk and sunbird duel in the whirlwind
buttercup fields  smile, shrouded by a pair of empty eyes
light and dark tangle in a necklace of joy, then pull apart
the future, a dreadful fear, dances timeless destruction
teardrops pound soft mud into diamond
my limbs are caught in the crossfire

tall bare branches escape a square hole
reach for the sun

 

 June 2021

 

It’s a small world?



 


‘It’s a small world’, I’ve often been told
It’s not what I’ve found, as I grow old and bold;
the world keeps opening, fold after fold
giving me treasures more precious than gold.

Yes it’s a small world
if I build a close wall,
keep face down and crouch
fail to see the sprawl.

If life throws us together
when we had been so far
it’s the thousand steps we took
the doors we kept ajar.

It’s a huge world to search
when I lose something held dear,
I meet a kindred spirit
and find yet one more sphere.

My mind is a world, an infinite space
of countless beings and thoughts to embrace
scaling mysteries I come face to face
with courage, compassion, joy and grace.

 

 March 2021

 

Thieves

 


Thoughts
ever greedy
for more
and more

rake roots
scour for deepest desires
scan skies
seize mystery, majesty
fearless fancy
flight of frenzy

scuttle,  steal
the wanted
and the unwanted

hue of rose
whiff of sandalwood
sting, venom
ingest, digest
sundrop on frost
sacred in silence
hurt, healing
love, loss
peacock plumage
of oil spillage
on still waters

stun guards
sail through gates
light as air
thick as thieves

Feb 2021