outside, it is magic hour,
inside, as i sit cross-legged,
amongst others, is pure magic.
i try to quell the questions
racing through my veins,
will you be here, will you?
will you recognize me?
will you raise that eyebrow
and gracefully acknowledge
the momentary loss of speech
and the skipping of a heartbeat,
should we come face to face?
you'd be older now, but
your perfect round bald head
would be illuminated as always
by some inner tubelight.
your eyelashes lowered to ignore
my need to see you in person.
they said you were here now.
would you be here now?
would you be sitting up there
in the front, next to the blue one,
just as i remember, just as before,
hunched over a butter lamp
coaxing the flame to burn brighter.
i should not be thus distracted
i know you would not want
me to be thus distracted
yet how easy it is to be distracted
i gather my wits, force my eyes shut
maybe then the blue one
will remind me why i am sitting here.
that's when your laughter rings
in my head. is this a new game
my blue one has created?
i allow the sweet suffocation
of incense to lure me back to prayer.
three hundred voices
begin to chant, "aummm…!"
i give in. to longing,
to desires, to yearning,
and exhale, "hmmm!"
