Resilience

Resilience

Out of the trunk,she hauled the wheel chair,

With practiced ease, set it up, without any fanfare,

Looked into the backseat with a smile ,a tender gaze,

Remembered to apply some cream, to her son's face,

Helped him out gently, checked he was safe and sound,

Adjusted his pillow so his head would not loll around,

Reminded him of something with a laugh,

As she collected her things for the dentists' staff,

The sight of the child in the wheel chair , my heart did rend,

And for her dogged resilience ,a silent salute to the mother, send.

--shubha

Home

Home

Not of this world, nor quite home
I journey unknown,familiar paths,seemingly alone,
Teeter on the edge of the precipice,
Desirous to fly,
Chained by my own delusions of being the doer and these triple ropes that tie,
The I , the mine and my,
The glimmer of what can be,
When ,of these ropes, I shall be free,
That trembling flame of knowledge that flickers and flares,
Refuses to be put out by all the mind's snares,
A premonition ,that I can return to that place that was home,once,
A fleeting understanding perhaps,but not the experience.

--shubha

Contours of a journey

Contours of a journey

Square necessities in squat square suitcases,
Fits presents,wishes, memories of all shapes and sizes,
A couple extra rolled up dresses to fill the space,
One black oblong vanity case,
Jagged triangular edges of anxious check lists,
The pointed pin-pricks of forgotten things,
Round boxed chocolate boxes filled with gleeful anticipation,
Squishy shapeless towels of hazy expectations,
The disorganized jumbled excitement of possible adventures, many,
The contours of an anticipated journey.

--shubha

Trinkets

Trinkets

Words threaded together ,

On a string of thought,

Completed by the clasp of meaning,

Pearls of wisdom, to age as cherished heirlooms,

Or mere trinkets that catch the light and a passerby's eye,

That linger as debris in the vast jewelry box of the world

Or adorn a new memory and thus gain new luster 

--shubha

Melancholy

Melancholy

In the deep dark well of melancholy,
Under the suffocating darkness of apathy,
I stirred,my last ounce of determination wrung,
Fingers scrabbling on the well walls for that first rung,
To begin the slow , arduous journey,
To equanimity.

--shubha

Conversations at sunset

Conversations  at sunset

At the lake shore at sunset,

The water rippled with laughter at something the wind said,

In the warm praise of the setting sun, blushed a golden red,

And laid out a shimmering, glowing path that to him, led,

The mighty river roared her exuberance at the dams' mouth, her loudest best,

The young river gurgled and giggled at the round rocks' jest,

Whispered sweet nothings to the shore in the quiet laps,

Sighed her sorrows to the sky in infrequent gasps,

Sang a soothing lullaby to the rising moon,

And I ,the inept eavesdropper ,hoped I could come again ,to hear it all soon.

--shubha

Seven

Seven

Soar for the stars but enjoy the view, when you only reach the mountain peak,
Embrace the new but do not forget your roots,while you seek,
Virtue, that old fashioned word, may it be in your character, intertwined,
Endeavor, always, to be kind,
Not just a star, a genius geek or a millionaire ,aspire to be,
Of every limiting label ,may you be free,
As you turn a magical seven , you ,who bring us so much joy,
We pray that God bless and keep our dear boy.

--shubha

Growing up

Growing up

There is no magic, my little boy, declared,
To his younger cousin, her eyes sad and wide,
They put the bunny inside beforehand,
It is just a trick, do you understand?
I listened to this conversation in dismay,
When did my little boy from magic, turn away
The same one that thought the sun went to bed each night,
And in the morning  came out to play,
That the moon and the clouds had a pillow fight,
When he looked up into a cloudy night,
O why couldn't he ,that little magical boy stay?
This celebrated process of growing up and enhanced ability,
At the cost of magical sensibility,
A process of taking on more responsibility,
Is it really just a celebration of conformity ?

--shubha

Interconnected

Interconnected


Question


Why Should I care?

Do I have not, enough troubles to bear?

Care about the suffering, afar,

Let them, my own little happiness, mar,

I cobbled together this little peace and wealth through hard strife,

Why must I part with mine, because somewhere, there is war rife?

After all it was not I, who wished this evil upon them, there,

Why o’ why should I care?


Answer:


Are we at all that different, you and me?

These differences of color, class, creed, gender and religion,

As separate as they are made to be?

How can in my life, happiness remain,

When yours' is desolate and bare,

Interconnected, as we all are.

Does the eye, not a tear, shed,

For that cut finger that bled?



--shubha

Frozen beauty

Frozen beauty

Outside my window , a frozen beauty stood,

Sparkling in crystals, as still as she could,

Entombed in the sparkling cold exterior

A warm,pulsing, living interior,

Why did it take this moment, frozen in time, to recognize,

The flame of life,that flickers in the dullest eyes ?

Yes ,the ensconced beauty ,in her iced prison , in my mind ,did seal,

The beauty of stillness,and the pulsing life beneath, reveal.

--shubha

Ice crystals

Ice crystals


Ice crystals swirl,dance,
In gusts, to melt like sugar,
On the earth's warm tongue.


--shubha

Holi wishes

Holi wishes

Hope in your life ,the mellow yellow of golden friendship shows,

Of shared pink sunsets, it glows,

Lives ,every day anew,like the nascent green of spring,

Infinite possibilities like the blue skies,each new day brings,

Holi , that festival of colors, where spring joy, in colors mesh,

Hope it livens your lives with every hue of happiness, afresh.

--shubha

Death

Death

Death, is it the end?

Or does it bring exciting journeys around the bend,

Pearly gates, pathways of light,

Spirit guides that hover just out of sight,

Or is it merely a state of rest

Between this life and the next,

A chance to atomize and become one,

With the fragrance that wafts or that speck of dust that dances in the morning sun?

The cold blighted end, how everyone must go,

Or a chance to be set free of that three lettered prison, the ego?

Death , is it the end of all that be ?

Or the one last gasping chance at liberty?

--shubha

Roller Coaster

Roller Coaster

As we stood in a friends driveway ,
Before a food truck wafting delicious smells,
And I watched pink cotton balls scurry across the sky at sunset,
And trees rain orange and yellow leaves,
In the chilly gusts,
And amid the chatter and laughter,
I found stillness
And wondered at this roller coaster of a day,
That started in tiredness of projected expectations,
Dipped in disappointment of failure,
Turned and twisted in the storm of self pity and anger,
Until concern for a sick child righted the world,
A job well done pulled up the spirits,
And at the end of this tumultuous ride,
Found strange peace under the evening sky.

--shubha

Mr.Cardinal's good friend

Mr.Cardinal's good friend

Mr.Cardinal arrived every mornin'
To say hello to his friend,
Who lived by the stainless steel bin,
And welcomed this friendly hello sent,
Together they would strut and preen,
And show off their lovely red sheen,
Every dive and every dip
Was mirrored to the last feather tip,
His friend followed every move to perfection
Much to Mr.Cardinal's elation,
Alas, if he could only learn,
That his beloved friend, was his own reflection,
He sought himself in others, you see,
Just like you and me,
Not knowing that beauty of friendship lies
As much in the acceptance of difference as in the similarity.

--shubha

Woman

Woman

Weaker sex, I certainly am not,

Of inordinate strength, am I wrought,

Motherhood my most recognized role, may be,

Am a friend, a guide, a teacher, a lover, a thinker, much more than that you see,

Not less, not more, but different and equal,

Woman, am I , under fear or subjugation , no longer,will I dwell ,

I carry the spark of the divine, same as you,

Come ,together ,let us build a more equitable society, anew.

--shubha

Nostalgia

Nostalgia

It arrived one day, by thought mail,
From the memory store,
At the corner of remembrance road and nostalgia lane,
Often have I searched for this recollection, in vain,
And have longed to be there again,
But perhaps it is best that recollections come ,as they do,
And fleetingly, to beloved places and faces, spirit you,
That otherwise in ring eared albums and minds' cobwebbed crevices they stay,
For life is not lived in yesterdays .

--shubha

Morning tea

Morning tea

Through the sieve of low black clouds,

The early morning light strained,

To fill the upturned bowl of a sky, with golden light,

Sweetened by the silver lining,

Refreshed a yawning morning commute.

--shubha

The Commute

The Commute


Late one morning on the way to work,
Traffic , congestion at every light and lane
The windshield wet with beating rain,
I wondered ,should I try another route,
Try the old winding highway that was generally free than not,
Or crawl down I-540 traffic chute?
As I neared the I-540 ramp before I decided that,
A honk, the screech of tires behind, gave me a start,
And a impulsive decision ,I chose my lot,
And sped up the acceleration ramp with all my old cars might,
And almost at once had to slow down to a trot,
And join the never ending lines of red tail lights,
As I merged into the this crawling lineup,
The GPS, very helpfully did pipe up,
To advise me that there was traffic ahead,
I gritted my teeth and saw red,
Changed many a radio channel, tapped my fingers on the wheel
With great impatience ,with the this trial did I deal,
Until a story on the radio caught my ear,
A story of great patience in circumstances hard to bear,
Righted my perspective about my situation
Ashamed about my impatient annoyance,
Taught me much, this commute to patience.

--shubha

Guardian of my memory

Guardian of my memory

As I leave you today,
Listen a minute to what is left to say,
I am sorry I cannot walk the next bend in form and flesh,
But in your heart I will live with you, through every joy and test,
Weep for the loss, if you must,
But remember I leave you our memories in sacred trust,
That the children may know me anew,
And while our memories may now, be bittersweet to you,
Let them know me,at my joyous best,too,
And I shall watch them blossom through you.

--shubha

Grateful to be alive

Grateful to be alive

Blue skies streaked with white,

Golden sunshine ,mellow and bright,

A light breeze that hummed forgotten melodies in my ears,

A gurgling river that washed away any residual cares,

Many a face that wore a friendly smile,

One of those blessed days that makes you grateful to be alive. 

--shubha

Impatient Blooms

Impatient Blooms

Impatient blooms unfurl on the branches,
These last days of February,
Boldly ,taking their chances,
In this window of uncertainty,
A leap of faith it may well be,
I wonder what will be their destiny,
To wilt under the next cold spell that winter may bring,
Or blossom into a radiant spring?

--shubha