Passing Through

We know what we move towards. We are shimmering apparitions already belonging to something beyond the walls of our reality. And when that actualises, we leave in our wake loss and deep feeling.

My own scribbles do not match the neatness

of your penmanship. And my thoughts are much coarser. 

Not quite so elegantly expressed. But still, I do hear 

the rain singing - as you would put it. I want to find more

in the flesh of the sky, the marble of the moon

and the flight of the bird. 

***

What inhabits me now is a breach - the gap between

Heaven and Earth. And there are oceanic depths to 

my feeling, watery strata - memories of you strewn 

at all levels... your sneakers tied up to the 

lantern of an anglerfish. 

***

Foraging in the fridge for the bare minimum,

bland sustenance - I remember the easy grip 

of the frying pan in your hand, and the flying 

flip of the pancake, the perfection of your smile

as Houston pronounces touchdown.

The craft has landed. 

***

The tears came to me bitterly at first, it was 

torrential, monsoon season. But then, the pouring 

precipitation was reduced to a trickle. I am not

ready to let go of the little icicles which

resist the fire of a sun which does not wince, 

nor wonder nor pause - no penance. There 

is sumptuous light passing through it as it melts,

and evaporates. And is gone. 

***

Your perfect penmanship. And the words you left for me.  

Reviews

[Fabian G. Franklin]

So sentimental and lush with description, this was a true pleasure to read. We keep those snapshots in our hearts forever. And here you are, sharing your personal photo album. But that's the gist of the whole thing, I think, relating our shared humanity to connect and touch others with tenderness. I know it gives me hope. :) A great read. F.