Silence is blue

Enroute to Shenandoah Valley, VA, on the 2nd of November 2024

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We all drive far

On beautiful roads

Enroute to beautiful valleys

Hoping to trace

With our hungry eyes

The picture perfect blue skies

And the very warm and exotic palette

Of a winter’s Fall

Along the Eastern coast.

*

Although, I know,

When it comes to me

You hope

No one sees

All the exotic colors of my Fall

Or experiences the embarrassment

You felt

Seeing how badly it bruised me

All red, orange, yellow, crimson

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I am quite certain

Reciprocity demands

That I mirror

And return

To their hungry eyes

To the dazzling display of their vulnerability

An equally warm and exotic palette

Crimson and all

Without embarrassment

*

After all

This beautiful road, this valley

And these blue skies

Had all been waiting

With hungry eyes

To trace

My picture perfect Fall

Along this Eastern coast

This winter.

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#On sadafternoons

Here is a reel that inspired this poem:

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Closed fists

Do not feed mouths

Hungry for food

Experience

And more

*

I must learn

to open

my hands

And receive

the abundance

That is waiting for me

To claim it

*

I must trust

Him

Who has taught me

To eat out of my own hands

To build

The neurons

That makes my brain

Develop

And discover

My own path

*

And as I do

I see

behind me

So many hands

Gathered around closed doors

Of time

And pain

And compromise

Forced into fists

Forever locked

Into contracts of compliance

*

And I see that

And I know

That is an option that many

Have been forced to take

And that I tried myself

for years

Hoping to appease the few

who don’t want me

to open my hands

And explore the taste of food

On my sticky fingers

Or my messy mouth

*

But my hands,

Are tired contortionists

Locked into position

For the pleasure and convenience of those

Who like to watch the show

But have stopped caring

About the pain

That it takes

To comply

*

I am going to

Open them

In prayer

For how else

Am I going to be able to

Write

My way out

Of this story of closed fists

And open myself to the abundance

That is waiting for me

And my brain

To develop and discover

And bring into reality

A more empowering story

Of the power of hands

For me

And my daughter.

*

*

The weight of it all

Has dropped to the floor

Like gravity

*

And although

the heart feels

sore

*

I feel

light

as a feather

*

That has let go

of the need

To hold on

*

And is ready

To drift

With the wind of change

*

That has taken

A long time

Coming

*

And I breathe for 4

And hold for 4

And exhale for 8

*

And I feel a peace

Where there was

grief

*

And joy

And hope

Where there was fear.

*

And I know

What it feels like to have

Closure

*

*

In Australian slang, chucking a youi is taking a u turn. And so I did, for my husband of 29 years.

*

The decision to stop

And pause time

And rip apart

All the calendars and routines

It has promised to lock one into

Is always there

*

The decision to reach out

And return

To the one

Who can fill

The gaping hole in the heart

Always stays close

Hovering around

The many cups of Skim Lattes

And sweet treats

That one devours

Oh so sweetly

In the hope that they will be enough.

*

And after sipping slowly

The creamy curves

Off so many love hearts

And too many cups of coffee

I know

That no perfectly brewed cup

Not the one in that French patisserie

In Queenstown

Nor at Frankie & Co’s cafe

In Kellyville

Nor at the multiple cafes

Restaurants and airports

In multiple cities around the world

Will be able to fill my cup

Without you.

*

And so I take the plunge

And make the decision

And instead of running away from you

I chuck a youi

And run to you

*

And even though

Your arms are full

And I’ll have to squeeze in

To share you

And make room for myself

The hole in my heart

Is full

And the creamy curves on top of my latte

Have never tasted better.

*

*

I have always written I am here. Those of you who have joined me on Zoom know these three words. But from now onwards I am happy to say otherwise. Listening to @davidshigham, Inspired me to see beyond the blue.

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I see it

My heart pure

As a sheet of rain on a tile

Reflecting the blue

Of a dimension

That doesn’t exist

And I step out of it

And know

I am

Always was

Always will be

Nothing.

*

*

Light has surprised me with its many manifestations in many experiences that I have written about in my poems. And here is another one that struck a chord.

*

The slabs of wooden tiles

On the floor of my balcony

Are thick

Like my heart

Opaque

And do not have the capacity to reflect

A higher reality

And

Transcend

The inherent limitations

Of their physical and chemical structure

Within which they are defined

Solidly

Since

What seems to me

To be

Forever.

*

However

In the early morning hours

After a night of showers

I see through

A tile or two

And look again

At the sheet of rain

That transforms its opacity

And increases its capacity

To become

Translucent

Like a mirror

A glimmer

Of Light

And reflect the width and breadth and height

Of the multiple dimensions that come with it.

*

And all I can do

Is pray to the One

Who can transform the view

Without touching the physical and chemical structures

Of a wooden tile

To transform me too.

And rid me of the ignorance

And the arrogance

That cloud my mirror

And do not allow it to glimmer

To be translucent enough

To hold the Light

And reflect the width and breadth and height

Of the multiple dimensions of Nothing

That are waiting for me to find them

Since forever.

*

*

I stand before the Cadbury’s Picnic Bar

And hesitate

It’s one dollar only

My favourite

With a perfect blend of all that I like

A bit of crunch

And a lot of that gooey sticky sweetness

Of honey and chocolate

That melts oh so perfectly in the mouth.

*

But today

I hesitate

Cadbury’s put all its products

On half price in Coles

Desperate for sales to go up

Is it for families who wish to get the best bargains

For their children

For those little hands that wish to save for their trick or treating

On Halloween?

*

And as I think of little hands

My heart sinks

For I know

That somewhere

In another part of an occupied land

Someone has no hesitation

In reducing little hands to

A bit of crunch

And a lot of that gooey sticky blood

The kind that hardens like chocolate

*

And I make a choice

And do not buy it

I do not wish to add

One dollar

To the millions

Being spent

To fill the pool of blood

With little hands

Being tricked this Halloween

Through the sale of each half priced Cadbury’s Picnic bar.

*

21.10.2023

*

I watch

As you try this option

The one in which you

Live and work in Australia

For perhaps a year

Preferably less

Just enough to tick the box

Of family affairs

One last time

*

And in this while

You hope to oversee

Your children’s transitions

Out of the house

Into their worlds

As they all eagerly prepare

To leave the nest

That you built for them

One last time

*

And as they prepare to leave

So do you

Hoping in your heart

It doesn’t take too long

Before you can finally unite

With the one

Who is waiting for you

On the other side

One last time.

*

And I see it

All

And I know

I must be here

Not to alter this reality

But to live it

And watch it

Play itself out

One departure at a time

*

And even though

No one has said a word

I can see

The quiet impatience

With which

Everyone awaits

The moment

That will set them free

One last time.

*

This photo was taken enroute to the Tesselaar Tulip festival, near Melbourne, in the car with my dear friend, Rabia, and reminded me of a poem I wrote in 2017, published in my book in 2021, and revisited today in 2023. And as I did, I stumbled upon this present.

The Present

*

What we write

And leave like pressed flowers

In the books we put together

Brings us back

To the truths

That we had the fortune of

Stumbling upon

Ever so briefly

Once upon a time.

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And when we do

We see them

Reflected clearly

In the mirrors of the past

As a present

We left for ourselves

To open

When we most need it

In the future.

*

1.10.2023

The light from the window reminded me of this poem, I wrote.

Here it is:

Khan, 2021, ‘The Prism’. On sadafternoons: A pool of orange and other poems, Singapore: Partridge. Pg 40-41.

The Prism

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And there are times when I think

I am alone

And there’s no one beside me

When I hear

The whole universe whisper

I am here

*

The laws of the universe

Hold me together

And with each breath

I take in

The effort of a million trees

Standing tall

Since forever to sustain me.

*

And I bask

In a sun’s light

That travels

Through eons of empty space

Dodging a host of material obstructions

In its determination

To reach me

*

And I see it all

And I empty my heart and mind of the ingratitude

That prevents me from acknowledging the love

And let it pass through me

Like a prism

Knowing it is bound to light me up

In all the bright places.

*

*

Reality

Is a sharp knife

That carves its way

Through the layers

*

Till it has quartered, diced and prepared

Everything

That has been sacrificed

For human consumption

*

And I stand there and watch

As you take your time

Deciding

Which would be the most succulent

*

And I see you

Struggle

With the weight of the decision

That you cannot take

*

And I know

I am no longer interested

In waiting for you to choose me

Like the meat on a stick

*

That has

Surrendered

To the reality of its

Consumption

*

And is waiting for you

To assign it a spot

In the feast you have prepared

To grace your table.

*