Don’t get me wrong,
Not losing touch with what’s going on

I AM in touch
With today’s stock prices, startups and Twitter-verified celebrities
With status updates on LinkedIn and random Instagram feeds.
I don’t know who my neighbors are or the name of our watch guard;
the last time I spoke to them was when I moved in here.
I lost touch with my best friend ’cause she is not on Instagram,
but I do know where her ex-boyfriend went, and where he stayed in France.
Phone conversations seem onerous. WhatsApp groups suffice.
‘Can’t talk now’ — I send that a lot- just a click on a device.

You have lingered all my life
In the back of my mind or when I close my eyes.
When I smell your perfume or hear that song out of nowhere
You appear like a whiff of fresh air.

It was the summer of ‘92
You had returned from boarding school.
You looked leaner, more wise.
Your voice was deep, so were your eyes.

You walked into my room
While our parents lounged after dinner.
You looked through my books, my art and tapes
casually chatting about our shared interests.

I was the shy girl in baggy pants and curly hair,

a poem

Photo by Ana Itonishvili on Unsplash

That look of me in the mirror
Why is that different from what I expect it to be?

A decade ago I had desired to become this person —
this exact same person.
The hair, the attire, the attitude,
the confidence that I didn’t have back then.
The small town girl with fire in her belly
has maneuvered obstacles and landed gracefully.
The concealers have worked, the dark circles are hidden
But have not quite concealed the emptiness within.

That look of me in the mirror
Why is that different from what I expect it to be?

I see a…


The smile on your face hiding your tears.
The curves on your lips giving away your fears.

The shouting, the arguments those stormy nights.
You would turn up the radio to drown the fights.

You would come out of the room to check on me,
I caught a glance of that bruise — was pretending to sleep.

Every time the door opened, your hands would shake
You would spill the milk, apologize for no mistake.

I hated leaving you alone when I left for school
Worrying every moment about what he or you might do

Why did you think, Ma…

Photo by Nguyen Thu Hoai on Unsplash

A long pending massage, to loosen those muscles
that have tangled with the stress of daily duties.

A cup of tea on a quiet rainy afternoon, curled up
with the bestseller that has been on the to-read list.

A walk along the river, listening to soul-stirring music.
Talking on the phone with a friend from the past.

Finishing that painting, that song, that story -
that was incomplete for months, since life was running fast.

A hot shower, a long meal, a run through canopied woods
Re-watching an old movie uninterrupted on TV.

Sending handwritten notes, trying out new clothes,

Wake up good people,
Times have changed.
You can walk out and breathe.
Your life matters as much as mine
Any shade of human, not just white.

Wake up
to hear words that are honest
Words that you don’t need to fact check
Words that have been thought through
Not ones that will instigate you

Wake up
Get out of your comfort zone
Glass ceilings have been shattered
Paths have been paved
Your history is for you to make

Wake up from your slumber,
Times have changed
Democracy is back, and so is decency
Lift your gaze to the world with dignity
Connect the…

Our family diligently eats dinner together
at our rustic table under a chandelier.
An abstract painting serves as the backdrop
just like a page off a West Elm catalog.
A bowl of salad lies dead on the table,
A slice of cold salmon on everyone’s plate.
All four members are on their devices
playing or watching, perhaps sending a text
Our eyes glued,
our distracted mouths chew food
We are all present — but absent.

We sometimes talk about the mundane —
an Amazon order or an internet trend
The weather, celebrity news
We assign each other meaningless to-dos.
“Whose turn for dishes?”…

An open relationship

That one look across the room
was enough.
“Would you like to dance?”, I asked
She smiled, and gave me her hand.

That one long conversation on the phone
was enough.
“What makes you feel alive?”, I asked
She confided, and poured out her soul.

That one night under the starry sky
was enough.
“Is this forever?”, I asked
She kissed, and gave me her heart.

That one fight over a trivial disagreement
was enough.
“I will never make you cry”, I apologized.
She wiped her tears, and gave me her trust.

Then one fight turned into five; into ten.

A Fresh Pot of Coffee

Decluttering my mind, scooping out deep-seated thoughts, stirring my soul and expressing them for you to enjoy some fresh, awakening perspectives

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