Sunday, February 01, 2009


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!"