Amanat

when air holds dear treasure

smoke climbs into ancient's heavens

where today we see
much deeper into miracles of existence,
we of our small round world

When air is the last place we see

precious life, in residues of hopes,

in dreams of luxuries, in unspent love;

through heavy hearts and watered eyes

lifted to memory, and rich skies, so poor

are we, to stand and see – a brutal  taking of beauty.

Amanat they now say, only a few days

from a time when the treasure smiled

felt the touch of heavy air, busy air

street airs, breath of those come near with love

breath of those come near…without welcome

When love was easy and violence crept

while a nation so oddly slept, mindless

accepting; the unlucky caste(--) now

revealed in the way we see a worthless thing(--)

a treasure- Amanat of clouds, Amanat

of grieving, Amanat of the hopeful

and fear has a brief holiday, a harder day
soon to come, in last blessing from…Amanat



Amanat  an Urdu word meaning treasure.  The name given to a young woman
whose brutal rape and murder had caused a world wide  focus  on the condition of
women in India, the lack of safety and due process of law.

curled...

...away from cold,  air swept

from alpine heights by

winds from the top of the world

arctic winds, swept over 

hundreds years old rooftops;

how the Moon had glowed so bright

near Jupiter and winter night full

of vapor breath and laughter.

Our fast walk to warmth then

we lingered over wine and words

after words(--) how I loved your eyes

lived more in your smile(--) then curled

in a place to sleep that cared not

for any circumstance other than

dark eyes in a near dark room

when touch meant invitation

and surrender found agreement

bodies and spirits

Curled, love in a cocoon

warm covers amidst chilled air

and how happiness made heat

and heat made Lovers want so much more

a possibility of Grace

maybe the world did end
one in which guns make Angels.
Perhaps the huge asteroid no one saw
smacked into this remarkable blue gem
and set it to boil and burn

did these alternative realities occur-
within each moment is every possibility,
a dimension like chance, and we
have perished, or live in last agonies
fed to rodents and roaches; or
feeding upon each other
the animal self emerged from
civility, naked turtles

or perhaps a prayer found
the possibility of Grace
and the asteroid floated by
the agonies mere dread
and the children who became Angels
saw us change, from refugees of fear
into creatures of love...for even
such a great sea of change-- begins with a single drop;
a tear fallen into emptiness

Last Saturday...

I left a wish
in an eclipse of the moon
upon a sky of planets aligned;
it was a prayer without answer
a message of faith and trust.
You were there in an haze
of light and dark, fog from the sea
salt taste in air, in aromas
of journeyed winds.

 Briny air burned my eyes
to tear, to well and tear...this
funereal morning
a slow passage and salt water.
You were there, over my shoulder
watching as through my eyes
falling in salt tear, touching like fog
cool like morning; close
like whispers, when
faith answers

fragments of summer in Africa

 [ of Love]

some words come sparingly
like Grace, a word like forgiveness;
some words fall like rain
rise into rivulets, pour to flood-
a word like Love- but when
a single droplet touches a dry seed
to green and reach for light, then
it is above the flood, it is Grace

[of poetry]

for there is something I wish to say
words to greet the Sun, forgive
a too-brief cool of night; bless
the unspent coin of this day
yet it will not emerge, choked on spring dust
asleep in winters' doldrums, pregnant
like the womb of a lesser Earth
joy mixed in fear--milk or tears --even
nascence has a price unpaid

[of night]

then quiet seeps within
where breath and heartbeat
grow to roar and drum
and thoughts that speak
without invitation, make
a stage of night,  where no one can say
hush

Sandy...

 in a place called Sandy...

felt a human storm

the crushing weight like

great wind driven tides

takes away the sun and air

a place suddenly beneath the sea

and a chill to the spirit;

frozen by sheer coldness of this day.

When finally falls to night, darkness

brings its cycle, yet some do not

close ends...missing ends, when  Love suspends 

flown into most difficult breath.

When the air is softened

slowed by beats of heavy hearts,

stilled by angel wings;

a sliver of Moon glistens

as the night also… has a fresh teardrop

a more tender Moon

she was a flower

neath a too distant sun

as if she were born to a warmer place

pale petals adored the slanted sky

made dreams in the still of night

and dreams made motile roots

folded space in upon time

the vast round world shrunk into

a whirl in winds of change

and the fullness of day

soaked into skin, salt air

aromas that were once so far away

lifted her senses to their heights

she was once- and again- a flower

neath a too distant sun, but now

had felt the side once imagined

echoes of seas and busy seasons

fill the spaces she has made

in loving heart- contained

in wishes planted like seeds

in whispers to a more tender Moon, in

passion flares, rendered tenderly

in butterfly flights of her eyes