I’m trying to hear you

Behind the incoherence of your words

You dress them up in so many layers

They muffle up your meanings.

What do I make of your anger?

What do I make of your smile?

I’m trying to learn your speak

I’m trying to decode your spirit

The heart and mind-

They speak different languages

And somewhere in between

Lies your essence

You lie in between two warring worlds

A victim…

Of melting feelings and frozen expression.

An Opportunity

The everyday as I  see it

Is a mask, a disguise

A mock constitution

Of half-truths and lies


You think you stand with a crowd

But you’re actually alone

The voices you hear around you

Are really your own.


Then why do I experience

The same world and the same you?

Why do I bring old eyes

To see the new?


We are in a sense blind

Till we begin to see

We’re born enslaved

And we must set ourselves free


How will such a freedom

Come to be mine?

Through the thick walls of my being

How will light come to shine?


Why does my heart, I wonder

Never utter a word?

Why does it suffer in silence

Never to be heard?


The mind is a vacuum

I’ve mistaken for a missing part

It sucks in fear and hate

That silences the heart


The heart will speak

When one is all of you

And not till you stand fractured

Dismembered into two


How do I join together

Parts of my being?

How do I accept your half-truths

As flaws in my seeing?


Where do I begin

Where do I make a start?

How do I silence my mind

And listen to my heart?


The heart I understand

Is the mind of a higher face

Its power of feeling

Removes all distance and space


Let me not just hear your bitter words

But of them also make sense

To the kaleidoscope of the everyday

Let me bring a whole new lens


The everyday is not

A displaced fragment of eternity

It’s what you are and

What you have the opportunity to be.


I pushed away

One dress after another…

None of them was ‘The One’

…I was looking for me.


If a dress were me

How would it look?

What threads would tell my story?

What moments would weave together as warp and weft?


And what colours and textures

Would reflect the age of my mind?

Which anecdotes would be printed?

How would it embrace my body?


I don’t like tight hugs any more.

I don’t want my breasts cupped

Or my buttocks grabbed

Or my form sculpted.


I no longer desire to be desired

I wish for silence and an ease of being

A place by your side

Loved, adored, admired, trusted.


I now like to maintain

A respectful distance

My relationships must stand the test of time

The truly beautiful is never a trend.


I find nothing up for grabs

Calibrated and cut

To the dimensions of my being

Except for this beautiful silk stole…


It’s light as air

I wrap it around me

And it engulfs me like an aura

I smile…


In and through it

I catch a glimpse of my Self

How deep is my need

To be visible, to be freed, to be true.

The Real Need

I realize

That for some

I may be of questionable caliber


They want to assess my sophistication

When all I wish for

Is for somebody to simply listen.


Why- in a strange travesty of intention

-Is my expression more valuable to you

than my overwhelming need to express?


How in heaven’s name

Are you going to draw value from my expressions

When you can feel nothing for my compulsions?



A second is but

A rhythmic chime

Reminding us of

The flow of time


A journey from

Then to now to then

An answer to every

Question of when


Time is the power

That allows us to see

Who we were

And what we’ve come to be


On its path

We inevitably come to find

All that we must

Eventually leave behind


And how is it

That we must meet our time?

Is this moment new

Or a continuing rhyme?


Must I be faithful to memory

Or have faith in the unknown?

Must I invest my time

Or borrow it like a loan?


Is a stack of moments

The sum of my life?

Or is life an expanse

Which is in moments, rife?


Must I use its power

To meet my destiny?

Must I move from

Smallness to immensity?


Such are the questions

This morning to me has brought

The currents of time

Draw a line with a dot


It’s this artistry, this design

That is so fascinating

The observance of time

Is the art of man-making.

The Inward Journey

It takes many lifetimes

To see the true

And to make distinct the false.

The journey is brutal

But cloaked in an embrace of kindness.

I have been tricked

And deceived by my own mind

That didn’t know any better

I have encountered almost everything

That I feared or dreaded

Only to find that they were imposters

It was my courage that was true.

I’ve sought refuge and direction

In books written by the wise

But have come to see

That in times of need

It was my naïveté that saved me.

I have pursued riches in words and wealth

And realised that true power

Lies in silence and emptiness.

I have sought to fulfil myself through desires

And understood that true fulfilment

Cannot be contained in a begging bowl.

Dignity is not a sophisticated dress you wear

It’s an air you breathe…

One that is not polluted

By the garbage in your mind.

An air that isn’t confined to an edifice.

But moves about freely in an unfettered space…


It takes many lifetimes to see

That Truth never leaves your side

And that the False can never stay.


That night…

Away from the jarring sounds

Of a party in full swing


You and I stood side by side

Exchanging little notes from our little lives

And although we’d known each other

As friends of friends…

We found ourselves discovering

Another basis for our shared existence….


So, as your friends and my friends

Danced the night away

We sensed ourselves slipping into the oblivion

Of a slow, but familiar waltz…

Dancing to sounds from distant memories

Buried under our long silences…


In that moment (plucked out of time)

Little was spoken, but much was said

Where the gentle breeze had already known

Of those impulses that seemed new to us…

This moment which seemed long overdue

Had naturally and eventually fulfilled itself.


That night…

Away from the jarring sounds

Of a party in full swing

While your life and my life

Danced the night away

You and I kept forgotten promises…

An unsaved last dance. An unfinished romance.