Tuesday, August 14, 2018

Mundaka I

Returning to the blog after 4 years................




whispering rain ......








Naked....
I sit
over the edges.... of a mango tree
with a teak staff by my side
that never sleeps


I hear
even with a few drops of rain
frogs croak
not one......
.......not two
but a whole bunch of them


I listen
to them
as they speak
first to my ears.....
and then to my heart
human
they become
like me....
...Naked


I sleep
or try to
yet .... keep hearing them
whisper in my ear
as if i am about
to die
yet
I dont ...


I live
with many skins....
many ......lives
it seems to be
an  illusion
........pain
of birth
is un known
to the child
and , but
the pain of birthing
is known to him
who seems to be
born
again


Nude
you stay
say the frogs
burn the layers
and layers
and layers of  ....
existing 

Like... the women
of yester years
who burnt
their bras
for they felt
it  stifling
some say,
their  own....
conscience


I smile
like a child
unseen
un known
to me


a frog came forward
and asked if
I could dance
in the rain
and all the others
hailed her
as the
"free one"
and she wore
not a thread
on her


I dance
till i forget
who I am...
arm in arm

I feel
the song of "the free"
and ....then
she let me go......
till
all the  learning ......ended
all the knowing
.....perished
and all that remained
could never be
tamed  or 

even
named