Archives for the month of: June, 2012

Is there anything we need

To tell our children

When they have a chance

To listen to the hail,

To the wind and to the rain,

Coming in through

The open window?

Could we hold our silence

In these soft times

And watch the valley

Fill up with clouds?

Could we listen to the secrets,

Shared with our children,

Only in this precious silence?


Who’s the one in front of us,

And who’s the one behind,

When we wait in a queue?

Perhaps this entire line

Is one single expression,

Punctuated and edited,

By the one at the counter,

Until all has been said,

And there’s no one left.

Perhaps we’re all saying,

The very same thing,

In so many different ways,

To the One at the counter.

Like a single dark cloud upon a virgin blue sky,

I am the very picture of inadequacy.

And yet, when I’m done raining

My few insignificant drops,

And I’ve turned all white,

Like I used to be, but not quite,

I wish I could return to that darkness

When I still had something to give.

Still, it’s not for a cloud to ponder over its purpose.

When it bears no rain, at the very least,

It exists, to give the sky some depth.

There’s a window here,

And a door there,

With no walls inbetween.

They’re not there

For keeping anything in, or, out.

Sometimes, we look out, or, look in,

And see that where we are,

Is what’s on the other side.

Unless it’s there,

You cannot wrestle with it.

Unless you wrestle with it,

You cannot know its many contours.

And even then, it’s like a journey

Upon shifting desert sands,

Where the only way to know your whereabouts

Is by looking at the Stars.

Those stars are your eyes,

Where I see love, only love,

However cold the desert sands, at night.