With Love .. to the MoonA Poem by Roshan Nair A common theme I've observed in many poems, is the one that talks about/to the moon,what surrounds it, its beauty & scars, with the exact same passion,despite us being fundamentally unique poets In the cold of evening, I wake up in the dusty living room, How did the sun leave so soon, where did it have to rush to? The people here give me the love that has shaped my soul I call out to the streets where the sweetened breads bloom, There is a dusty din as the devils knights seem to pass numbing us all.
The pen is as old as my father’s grey mane; it’s still got some life, It seems to call to me inside, asking what I see, in a strange language. I try to wrestle with it as it makes me surrender: Look out the window, there’s someone waiting for you all this while.
I look at her, she looks at me and we have found love. There is no mercy or forgiveness; I give in to my new language to speak.
* This maze is my home, I run through and across. The joy of my feet only compares with the beat in my heart. I watch the life as it grows within each wall, creating my empire, My city, my kingdom, my life, each hand moulding a precious part, I see myself within a wall and playing my simple drop in the ocean.
The chalks seem as ragged and dry as fallen peaches in the alley, The wall calls out to me, to speak to it, a language I haven’t seen, I stare at it blankly, questioning all I know, as it asks me: What is it you see through the window while staring at the sky tonight?
I look it at him staring at me with his glance ever pure and cleansing, I know no more than to let my mind to its calling, but I can’t help but drift into his rhythm. * My neck, it hurts as I crank it to see the flicker of light I call home, To get back from my masked march in the lined rooms and corridors, Concentrating all along, my mind has condensed into a burning ball. The release they say are these bars and foliage in the back, Where I am to be what I am again, the only recourse, as they planned.
The stairs seem to be leading me today to a place I don’t know, I climb to the sound of my muted footsteps as they hasten. It isn’t the old that call, but the voice that is calling me out is anew: I’m waiting at the highest perch, come and see me, I long for you.
My minds perplexed, My heart seems to burn in the heat of the journey. There he waits in earnest longing, waiting as I shed my days skin bare.
***
There’s no connection as I look at you, yet I see a million eyes, You’ve been the promise for many, of dreams you told no one would see. I came here all alone to be in your presence, naked as I can be, to feel your pulse as you feel mine, but wait.. We are not alone here are we? ... I can see them now... I see the streets of dust and rust as you look, I see the little houses of waste where from where you called, I see the towers towering so clear; there are many but none waiting in line.
I see them... I see them all... Can you... Can you see me too?
We all get back inside after a while to bleed on any willing surface about our embrace, in the tender moments of nights care, that comforts us saying ...tomorrow you’ll meet again
Written By Roshan Nair © 2015 Roshan NairAuthor's Note
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Roshan NairMumbai, Maharashtra, IndiaAboutHey, I am Roshan, I am a poet, writer, musician and artist. I love poetry and it has gotten the best of my creative side off late. I sincerely hope you folks enjoy checking my content out and let m.. more..Writing
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