sometimes, remember me

      

sometimes, remember me

wednesday night

the third

vaiśākha

. . .

“unmeasured in words or the movement of the mind,

that one untainted

open space.

enter now."

from 16th century tamil poem

an almost full moon of vaiśākha is blooming in the sky.

i see it through the leafless branches of the rudra palash tree outside the eastern window in my room.

day and night, i sit at my desk by this window working on pictures, reading books,

watching and listening to stories, interviews and songs.

but most of all simply gazing out.

at the sweet chaos of green leaves and sunlight dripping between them.

at birds, so many of them, flying in and flying out of branches.

and at the tree-lined path that quietly leads into the main road ahead.

in the evenings, the air rings with the happy noise of children playing outside.

and as the last shards of daylight fade from the walls,

the spring breeze comes in, lifting the curtains.

.

this new house

and everything it offers,

a gift.

i was unknowingly waiting for.

.

my heart swells

and softly explodes into an ache, an urge.

so i’m returning here, once more. after slipping away again and again.

to fill this quiet white place with that ache, that urge.

to answer to its whisper of - ‘sometimes, remember me’

. . .