Social Distancing

Separated by a comma

And an ocean,

Like a hyphenated surname

That is meant to join

But shows definite distinction.

We sit in different countries

Waiting for the storm to pass

And reveal a brighter page

Of this horror story.

But for now, let's rely upon

Summer

To sweat our brains out

So that when we finally 

Get to dance together,

It isn't on a camera screen

But in real life-

Like a bouquet of flowers 

Swaying in unison 

To a beautiful breeze 

That is God's exhalation to announce-

The storm has passed. 

Ownership

So many great poets 

Whose works I feed upon

Take days and weeks and months

To churn out Pulitzer winning

Masterpieces. 

And I-

I sit on the edge of the bed

Hiding behind my own shadow

Thumbs on my phone

Furiously excreting honesty

With no rhyme scheme,

No guarantees of fruition,

And no before or after. 

My poetry takes ten minutes

But also a lifetime 

And once it leaves my head

Like liquid ink on paper,

It dries into a reality

That shall always remain to be

Mine.

Validation

My son, who isn't even two,

Points at paintings

That hang on the walls

Of our home

Of women dancing,

And playing the flute,

And says, "Mama!". 

It makes me smile to know

He sees a congruence

In face, stance and mood;

And then I wonder

Why I can't always seat myself

Upon that same golden throne

That he has saved for me

In his mind palace. 

Joy

Have you ever been filled

With so much joy

That your seams seemed

To nearly rip 

With the hot air of happiness

That expanded and imploded

Like a gas tank out in the sun...

Have you known that glee?

And when your heart 

Finally burst with elation

You saw tiny bits of self doubt

Evaporate.

Love has a way of healing

Everything.

Without prejudice or sarcasm.

Have you ever felt it?

I Love Me

Indulge yourself today.

When you crave for cake

Bake yourself some cookies too.

Life is hard 

On most days. 

On most days

The bath water isn't warm enough,

The coffee isn't strong enough,

The air isn't clean enough. 

The neighbour's cry is loud,

The boss's commentary incessant,

The landlord's wails annoying. 

The roads are muddy,

You don't get a taxi when you need one,

And after walking ten blocks

You realise you forgot your phone

In that cafe where you bought

The not-strong-enough coffee. 

Life is a bitch

On most days;

So indulge yourself

On that one day,

In that one time

When the world is shut indoors

Like a grounded teenager.

Bake yourself a cake, some cookies,

Some kindness. 

You deserve a kiss

From your lover and your child-

Sure.

But first, a kiss for yourself,

An inward twist of metaphorical lips

To shower appreciation 

For yourself for doing

The best you can.

Imposter syndrome be damned.

You've got this,

With more surety than you admit to.

You deserve more cake.

Internal

Is it okay

To write about 

Dreamers, lovers and poets

When the world gasps for air

And pandemonium 

Is as rampant 

As the pandemic?

Does it hurt sentiments

And seem frivolous and foolhardy

To imagine 

A sunny afternoon

With a pair of arms 

To garland your weary shoulders?

To wish for

A happier end to an unhappy year?

To long to feel

That familiar itch of excitement

Of a new town, 

A new cuisine,

And a new language

That romances the tongue 

Gently, but surely,

So that the only insecurity

You have left

Is of not being able 

To sing each sentence 

Like a blackbird's song,

Like a violinist's confession,

Like a muezzin's call to prayer. 

"I cannot rest from travel".

But for now, 

I must travel within.