Moon

Haven’t seen someone this beautiful

I catch a glimpse of her rise at nightfall

She glides up unhurriedly

laughing with the playful clouds

that take on shapes of beards, bears, and owls.

 

So silent is she even when the world rattles on

The birds chirp about

The crickets talk aloud

But she,

bearing so grandly the light from her consort.

Eccentric

Can one name this eccentric passion?

That neither allows sleep nor waken

Or stay or even leave

Staying, burns. Leaving, kills.

 

For the heart cries and laughs

Wanting to cleave and shred

Into a million shards

to present to thyne wild spirit

 

This scream in my interiority

Fancying consuming thou

And not share with another

Even a child

 

Or a wild electricity

With which I’ll behead

and then proudly kiss thy face

and keep beside when I go to bed.

Children

Children, mine

but not mine.

Born out of another womb

But blessing was mine

For they paved my path to

nourish the mother within

I wept after goodbye

Craftily, so that they don’t see

Just like the clouds that day

With friendship and tenderness in heart

Sad, yet proud of the hope to see

Them, peak as human beings

I’ll miss the yearning I saw in their eyes

The naivety in their presence

And the embraces and tryst with art

Oh! They leave me with such uncertainty

Of when we’ll reunite again

But a mother also waits

So it’s alright.

I wonder then,

Why do I need children of my own?

When I already have

Children, mine

but not mine.