Footwear. Footsteps.
Loud bells .Rhythmic chants
Bare feet on the ground
Last night's rain.
Prayers. Banter.
Hands on hearts.
Fresh flowers - jasmine
Jasmine. White.
White. Jasmine.
A gift I can never give
Because you'll never take.
Sandalwood, kumkum, viboothi.
Kumkum. Red.
Red. Kumkum.
A gift I can never give
Because you'll never take
Viboothi. Grey. Ashes.
Ashes. Grey. Viboothi.
The only thing you'll accept
and smear on your forehead.
GREY WHERE RED USED TO BE.
I can make you smile
but I can't bear the tears
that come along
A place you love so much.
A place that gives you peace
Reminds me of everything
that once used to be
I don't want to go to the temple ma.
11 comments:
It's lovely. So picturesque. And I can so relate.
I'll reserve my comments for our next meeting :) I like your concept, though.
widow
I can totally connect. It's somehow, a part of my life too. I hate going to temples.It seems like an empty place now..
@Nrithya and Manasa - love you guys..
@Ashwin - that..or mom..
poignant.
This is lovely. Your mom made me read this when u were not at home.
It just reminded me of ur forthright poetry. I'm reading a few of your old ones now :D
@Ashes - do you write under Ashwin and Ashes?..and thank you..just being honest..blatant mom would say
@Vino - hello there..thank you for taking time out to read my blog again. Whats yours called now?
@Nithya: yes. both ashes and Ashwin are me. some problem with logging in while commenting.
i like the intent in your writing.
Intent - in both theatre and poetry is a word I don't understand..
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