Monthly Archives: February 2007

Fault lines

In rising aspiration I have become a mountain when I should have become a valley, and in the rising the rain has rolled off me. I stand, high and dry. Shikha, chura, ashlesha.

Gaze, petulant flower

Every time they look at me they embody me. Bring me back to the skin that creases in the effort to spill its containment. In a crowd I am suddenly a perfect leaf against a mass of others, hurrying before the wandering gaze unaware of itself. I clench my teeth in the effort to remain in bas-relief. If only, only a little while, in a little while…
I am clothed in layers, evanescent as the air and heavy as dust on my pores. The muslin rustles in the heat of summer, desire making its folds as restless as feet. I am tree-ringed, inward, seeking as sap to rise above the ageing trunk, and entombed by my roots. This dust.
They see me, and I lose my self. 
Yet, in that room, among the others, I feel so unbeautiful I want to leave. "Stripped to my beauty." Aware of a foliage of beautiful selves, and I only one among many, I am overwhelmed. A child among children. Singularity in carnal form is both undesirable and impossible.

Yeats, old friend, you still hold true

"Through all the …days of my youth
I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;
Now I may wither into the truth."
Hope is that thing with feathers, I remember, whose neck was wrung by that child in that film last year.
"The friends that have I do it wrong

Should know what …is at stake
It is myself that I remake."


Don’t count on sunshine, he told me. He meant it mildly. But I took wing on the gusts of absence and rose tall as an eagle against the sun. One doesn’t count on sunshine any more, I said. One waits for the signs of the seasons. The signs arrive even if the seasons’ faces change. They must come. Even absence is a sign. If only one knew how to read it. 


I paused. I knew I was about to chip at my own image in my child’s eyes. This child, my blood and bone, me and not mine. This that I would hold above the earth, precious above all. I paused, and said, "Well, beta…"

And stopping to look at the sky, I realized I had imagined speaking in my father’s voice whilst at the same time I sat as a child at his knee.

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