I Promise

‘Will you return

Ever?

Or is this time the last time

That I touch

Your wings, light as death,

Before you soar

Again

Into the sky?’

/

‘I will return 

Always:

As long as you remember me,

I’ll cross

The endless

Expanse of space,

And sit with you,

And dream – ‘

/

‘I promise to return!’

/

‘And if you promise to return,

Then, I will wait

For you

Forever’

To Christophe M.

(Not) A Good-Bye

Boudhanath, Kathmandu – Walking Away

From me to you — a quiet good-bye:

There is no time for anything else;

You know me, and you know that I can’t

Make speeches, loud but forgettable;

/

I’ve talked to you for months now and months:

Roaming your streets, taking in your nights,

Getting soaked in your rains, letting in your cold,

Making your time, your rhythm, your prayers – mine;

/

From me to you – a small good-bye smile;

I have no strength for anything else;

I have been so alive here, I’m tired

Of the joys and pains you’ve showered me with;

/

I leave you to be somebody else;

I’ll keep you in my heart as you are;

I thank and bless you millions of times,

And hope that this, in spite of all, is not a good-bye

Water

I tried to climb over bleak walls

Of rain,

Swim up cold rivers, whose hearts beat

In clouds

/

But walls of rain would vanish with

The sun;

And mountain rivers simply left me

Drained

/

I should have tried instead

To cross

The sea of pain within

Me

 

The Sky Burial

Dark clouds of lead and wrathful winds –

The ever-hungry vultures of the summit –

Have gathered

Around me

/

With claws of ice they tear though every thing:

My flightless mind, my flesh, immobile,

They rip in pieces

And pieces

/

And from across the world I know you watch

What you love disappear into the gaping

Mouth of a dream,

My wildest dream

/

For but an hour turn away, and nothing will be left:

The sacred birds will vanish, their wings – the skies – blood-red;

I am the dying dusk

You’re looking at:

/

I’ve burned this day,

But many more are yet

To come

The Portrait

I draw my thoughts and feelings

On your face,

Imagining they are

Your own,

/

And put such words between your lips

As you would never say;

To me

It matters not

/

That you do not exist

The way I see you:

A book in progress

I complete too soon

/

An empty canvas, which I over-paint

With meaning,

But dry paint cracks, and you emerge –

The true you I don’t know