Tuesday, 8 April 2014

The Absence



An unexpected visitor her memory isn’t. Present, always. 

Yet today, on Ram-navmi, the day her Ishta Devta chose to come on the earth in a human form, I sense her Absence. 

Her form in this life, form that I knew, form that gave me mine.

Unexpectedly, by this window. 

Is it the scent in the air that feels like the touch of her soft hands? Or the mystical hum of the wind-chime that speaks like her smiling eyes? Or the pleasing dance of the bamboos in the breeze that sings of the time she wasn’t formless?

She is absent. Again. 





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