Saturday, 29 October 2011


Not finger on skin,
lip on lip
and other felt things
made for quivering and sigh.
it is a heartbeat blend
the twirl of thought with thought
word on word
phrase within phrase
and a comforting
that defies distance,
outlasts togetherness.
[from the collection 'The underside of silence', shortlisted for the Gratiaen Award 2008]


Friday, 28 October 2011

Notes on Silence

Silence is a lifetime;
made of waiting
of a dream desired that never arrives,
of love that will not accept caress,
of a heart that refuses to bleed,
or slams shut its door to the most innocent query.

Silence is a continent;
a barren landscape that I have walked
that I am walking,
where a multiplicity of mirages
tease the heart’s eye
in merciless bombardment.

Silence is made of rain
each drop an ancient ocean
upon whose shores I knelt and prayed
for your arrival.

Silence is night time,
a full moon blighted by impediments
of cloud and trees,
blurring, shredding,
and moonlight falling like tears upon my heart.

Silence comes even with the smile of daybreak
that delicate heartbreaking rupture of night;
it turns back sunlight
and tells me softly,
“the long night has not ended,
and perhaps it never will”.

Is made of a beautiful heart,
marked by refusal.
yielding a harvest:
centuries of waiting
and tears that will not fall
for fear of disturbing the earth that is you. 

[the above is a SINGLE poem and was also shortlisted for the Gratiaen Award 2008]

Thursday, 27 October 2011


And when sleep
has been detained
at some unnamed checkpoint
many miles, many years
from Here and Now,
my gaze scrambles over fractured word
broken taste of chocolate
and coffee that wants to recover
its bean-form,
I, mendicant,
am at your doorstep.
just standing outside
carrying nothing
but the bruise
of contested histories
and the unkempt hair
of stories I've archived.

[from the collection 'The Underside of Silence', shortlisted for the Gratiaen Award 2008]

Wednesday, 26 October 2011

You and I

If you are the entire spectrum
of colours seen, unseen and imagined,
let me be a single sliver
whose size does not forbid a name.
If you are a glorious reservoir,
let me be that single drop of water
that wills you to spill your transforming magic
to turn individuals into communities and hearts
and barren fields into harvests and smiles.
If you are moonlight,
let me be a fire-fly speck of light
convincing you
that the stars often walk the earth at night.
If you are the breeze that heals,
let me be a whisper of acknowledgment.
If you are a voice,
then let the voice that is me
still resolve to speak its barren word.
If you are the unfolding of truth,
let me be a salience
that gives the unravelling a signature.
If you are love,
then let me be its tear drop and smile.

[From the collection 'Threads' shortlisted for the Gratiaen Award 2007]


Tuesday, 25 October 2011

Ode to doubt

There are doubt monsoons
that fill heart-sky with fear-cloud;
and memory is not sun enough
and love, at times,
a poor wind:
the rain must fall
and fall and end.
It may destroy the floodgates
or yield harvest.
Either way, 
the heart must wait. 
For sun.
And rain.  


Monday, 24 October 2011

Her eyes

(for a love now irrecoverable)
These circles of knowing
and portrayal,
have with eye-lid closed
and open
surveyed the to-be-seen
and hidden
and behind the un-revealing blankness
of gaze
there is temper
and healing.
It is a whip -- you lashes
and a fan that births indescribable perfumes.
Heaven Scent, I believe it is called.

Sunday, 23 October 2011


(for my sister)

From dolls to babies
play houses to households
kids' plays to life-theatre,
trauma over crush
to marital anxiety
word to metaphor
bruised knees to wound without residence
slight intended and accidental
forced apology to remorse
rivalry to revelry
we were siblings and friends
unscripted and yet
an unfolding I would not edit
not with one word or stroke or
slice of silence.