Swan Lake, a poem…

The Way In (Rakhi Varma)

“The muezzin calls five times a day
Every day, to remind you
Of the swan lake you left
To find a final home and
A last love in a world
That never was…
It is twilight now, and see
The lake rolls with the desire of dawn
The muezzin’s call sounds again
Like a messenger from beyond
Winding each night through your sleep
To deliver a promise made…
Will you startle…and sleep again?
Or will you let it come in through your confusion
And turn your heart with its echo
Into an arching cave
That leads back to the swan lake –
Where the one lover you always wanted
Is waiting on the water, there
For you to open your eyes and see.“
—

Unrelated Entirely

Warmth (Shambhavi Singh)

I have some questions
And some answers
Unrelated entirely…
They came from that place where
Sequence matters only in appearances.

I have this question that:
Are my tears the inverse evidence
Of your being…?
Like thirst is the inverse presence
Of quenching water?

And there is this separate answer that
Sincerity is your little finger
Holding on to the little finger
Of Truth…
As, together, you walk this circus.

And this idea too, I have, that if
You want to keep moving forward
The most important thing is
To stay still inside
And want nothing.

But why do I sit, overwhelmed,
Ever since I got wind of your coming
Even though I half believe my luck?
Yet, my other half has begun to dress up
As if, at the break of dawn, you’ll be here.
__

When the shore appears…

Moonlit Night at Miyajima (Hasui Kawase, 1947)

Tonight, when the shore appears
Get off your boat
Leave your things behind
And enter alone…
Carry nothing, not even the lightest
For, even the smell of incense
That gave you peace thus far
Will weigh you down now,
The chants that kept you going
Will now keep your breath,
The ripples of the gong too
However thin
Will remind you of some mountain peak
That you wanted to climb again…
No, leave here at this threshold
Your longing, your tears, your peace,
Your reverence too…
Let the image of another god
Float away on the ripples
To some other shore, where
Someone else might need it
To point out her path –
And you go in now, just you,
Sit down inside yourself
Utterly naked, empty
Upon the throne that’s been waiting
To tell you the truth
About who you are.
—