Space

 

Grey moments cannot tell the difference

no one is sure how we should look at each other,

a stream runs among the rocks,

the unbuilt bridge wants our footprints

one image overlaps another, golden dreams

come knocking at our invisible door.

 

At one level, the empty boat has presence and depth

we can see trees on the hill top,

calm, shadowy, a touch sensitive-

wait for flowers to blossom,

images of earth falling on tranquil water

where are our buried roots?

 

There is a gentle restraint now on high-pitched words

days give us rain, nights not so easily,

fresh clumps of silent laughter resonate,

wait for the breeze to turn into angel’s voice,

we feel we are secure; we feel we are safe

but life sometimes thinks otherwise, draws different contours.

 

©gopallahiri

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