Fly Me To The Moon

I don’t want directions. Signs
And arrows, instructions, and
Soon, who knows, a checklist
Of do’s, don’ts, definitely nots. Just
Give me wings, don’t make me
Flap my arms and tell me I must
Flap faster if I want this to
Work. And that wind beneath
My wings, for the love of god,
Don’t make me search a
Lifetime don’t make me crawl
Under every stone, fall
Into every ravine, creep
Into every crevice, sleep
Away a lifetime just so I
Can keep dreaming. Beaming
Moonshine at me isn’t hard
To do. If you really want something to
Point me to, turn my face so
I can see the turning blue planet
I was meant to be. Each ocean
And mountain clear to my eye
Every leaf and stone exposed to my
Moon-standing self. I’ll fold
My wings, blow out the wind,
If once I could see everything
I am and was meant to be.

Image may contain: sky and outdoor

Advertisements

Monsoon’s Child in Cold Lands

A day bright blue
Snuggled amidst grey
Months of cold. Reading
Of rain which I think of
As silver, not grey. Too
Bright to hold, this
Day, falling from the grasp
Of rain too far away.

Courage IV

Image may contain: sky, mountain, outdoor and nature

I want to be the rain
That is driven up shields of glass
Against all laws of nature and grief
I want to know that as
I fall from skies shedding legions
Of such as me, over loaded over crowded
Bent on hurtling earthwards, that I
Will rise again, pushed onwards
On wings of air, knowing when
And where, the edge of glass meets
The skies. Not this me
Strapped and seated
Watching the road fly past through
Streaks of water. Strapped
And seated, not
Undefeated.

The sea, like grey silk

Image may contain: cloud, sky, mountain, ocean, outdoor and nature

The sea like grey silk
Clothes its depths in
Shimmering sadness. And
Grief is not a cliff that
Demands that you leap, but
Every shipwreck knows that
There is a limit to
How long it can keep its
Secrets in the deep before
The sea strips all veneer, and
They rise, cliff like, to crash
On unclothed shores.

This Is What I Learnt Today

One, mountains that look
Quite pretty from your window
Are a mere white line on your phone.
Two, people in hot countries far away
Are not amused at being shown
Mountains on FaceTime. Three,
If you have slippers, socks, and a puppy
Eventually they will all lie crumpled
And sodden on the balcony. Four,
If you’ve learnt much more,
Set it aside for tomorrow, so that
Each full day may lend its fullness
For a still empty day to borrow.

End Of The Road

If there’s an ocean at the end
Of the street, even the puddles
Seem headed that way. The huddled
Buildings, grey and blue, bend
Their angular corners towards the hills
If the end of the street so wills.
I think, as my feet aimlessly wend
Their way down foreign streets,
That there must be a mountain,
An ocean, a future, to meet.