Soul and Heart

Will you be my heart?
Will you be my soul?
Will you be all that's falling apart?
Or will you burn it all in the stove?

Will the rain wash this feeling away?
Will the tears prove that I have paid?
Will the oceans sweep me away?
Or will I seethe until all is arrayed?

Soul, oh Soul, will you stay?
Will you rest until it is day?
Will you chase the fireflies?
Or will you play with this mountain of lies?

Heart, oh Heart, will you remain?
Will you lay unbroken in pain?
Will you touch the lion's mane?
Or will you claim that it's all insane?

God Has Healed

Each Summer Night
Passes to bring Rainy Cheer,
Yet the one thing that rings true
Is my heart's one belief
"God has Healed".

Trials come
Worry prevails
Yet to my lips remain
"God has Healed".

Sanity questioned
Love undeterred
Yet Spirit secure
My words melt to say
"Rafael".

Ordinary Days, Extraordinary Ways

On an Ordinary Day

I don't see the sky

The blue and the grey

Don't even step in time.

I walk all day

With my eyes wide shut.

And when it finally rains,

I'm clearly stuck in a rut.

The moon hidden on a plane,

None can explain

The crickets exclaim,

"Hop to the tick,

Or stuck you'll be in slick!"

That's just an Ordinary Day.

The air churns around

Claiming each sound,

But hear my voice

Ring out loud.

"I'm no Ordinary Me

Just an Extraordinary She."

So each Ordinary Day,

Changes in Extraordinary Ways.

The Growing Wall

It was a blisteringly warm Monday morning. India's 64th Independence Day, nevertheless. And I'd found my home facing the back compound wall on which I'd been growing my wall mural but had touched for 5 months. My brother wanted the table blue but Mom didn't know that she could use the acrylic paint I had since Christmas to paint on wood. Plus, he'd already finished varnishing it maroon. So, I picked up the blue painted and painted the shelf instead. Its a startlingly bright blue, but I love the warmth it exudes. I couldn't help myself, but as soon as i'd finished the shelf, i made a bee-line for the back wall. The can of blue acrylic paint in hand, and a rather large brush. The first part of the mission was cover up from the first attempt. The first time i started painting the back wall, I had really tiny brushes so by the time I had finished the centre piece, I was tired but didn't want to stare a copious amounts of blank peach stone walls. So blotched it with my infamous handprinting technique. It was all going to change in a few minutes. And, It did! The texture of the stone wall allowed me to create a something that on parchment would take me forever to master. I could feel the stone speaking to me. I could feel their sighs of relief that they were not just beige or peach but they were going to be worth much more when I was done for the day. The blue really popped in the sunlight and the purplish brown held the pulse together. I could take my own roots finding its ground. I could feel myself reach out to the Earth and be one with Her even if it was just for a lil bit.

Wide Eye Rent

Spaces emerge

Vision blurs

Hands converge

Hearings a purr.

Snap, Snap

Clap, Clap

Splash, Splash

That's the trick,

Yet not the pick. 

The Sandman came and went,

Said I didn't pay the bill he sent,

So I lay in bed,

Asleep you must stay, he said

Until you pay up the wide eye rent.

Whispers at Dawn

Whistle
Whisper
Speak
Conversations in discrete
In the morning air,
The trees do seize.

Warming
Wishing
Embracing
The dawn's sun kissed skies bring
In to each voyager's heart
A tingling.

The wild undergrowth giggles,
The canopies sway,
A natural dance they create
In a waking mind's estate.

(Written on 15 July, 2011 on a train to Bangalore.)

The Best Days

The best days
Come all at once.
Wiggle your toes
They'll come alive.
Run and do not hide
All that is inside.
Cry, only in joy
Or the excess of pain.
Or maybe stay,
Just stay in my lane.
Run, run, run
Only to say,
Welcome to my world, hun.
Oh! the tropic thunder
Will not change,
This I know,
I know with age.

(written on July 3, 2011)
(second edit - July 18, 2011)