poems

Don’t worry there’ll still be a lot of suffering > For now you have the right to cling to the sleeve > of someone’s blunt friendship > To be happy is a duty which you neglect > A careless user of time > you send days like geese to the meadow > Don’t worry you’ll die many times > until you learn at the very end to love life

You keep waiting for something to happen, > the thing that lifts you out of yourself, > > catapults you into doing all the things you've put off > the great things you're meant to do in your life, > > but somehow never quite get to. You keep waiting for the planets to shift > > the new moon to bring news, > the universe to align, something to give. > > Meanwhile, the pile of papers, the laundry, the dishes the job – > it all stacks up while you keep hoping > for some miracle to blast down upon you, > scattering the piles to the winds. > > Sometimes you lie in bed, terrified of your life. > Sometimes you laugh at the privilege of waking. > > But all the while, life goes on in its messy way. > And then you turn forty. Or fifty. Or sixty... > > and some part of you realizes you are not alone > and you find signs of this in the animal kingdom > > when a snake sheds its skin its eyes glaze over, > it slinks under a rock, not wanting to be touched, > > and when caterpillar turns to butterfly > if the pupa is brushed, it will die – > and when the bird taps its beak hungrily against the egg > it's because the thing is too small, too small, > > and it needs to break out. > And midlife walks you into that wisdom > > that this is what transformation looks like – > the mess of it, the tapping at the walls of your life, > > the yearning and writhing and pushing, > until one day, one day > > you emerge from the wreck > embracing both the immense dawn > > and the dusk of the body, > glistening, beautiful > > just as you are.

वृक्ष हों भले खड़े, >हों घने, हों बड़े, >एक पत्र छाँह भी >मांग मत! मांग मत! मांग मत! >अग्निपथ! अग्निपथ! अग्निपथ! > तू न थकेगा कभी, >तू न थमेगा कभी, >तू न मुड़ेगा कभी, >कर शपथ! कर शपथ! कर शपथ! >अग्निपथ! अग्निपथ! अग्निपथ! > >यह महान दृश्य है, >चल रहा मनुष्य है, >अश्रु, स्वेद, रक्त से >लथ-पथ, लथ-पथ, लथ-पथ, >अग्निपथ! अग्निपथ! अग्निपथ!

What I like about the trees is how > They do not talk about the failure of their parents > And what I like about the grasses is that > They are not grasses in recovery > And what I like about the flowers is > That they are not flowers in need of > empowerment or validation. They sway > Upon their thorny stems > As if whatever was about to happen next tonight > was sure to be completely interesting.

I know that dying is how we escape > the rest of our lives. I think that trees > send us a message: do not believe > you are lucky. The skins of apples > and the peeler will marry; it’s simply > a question of when. Believe > in mourning and carrion birds. > Look how their fleshy treasures > dissolve in the sun before their very eyes. > To love something > you must have considered what it means > to do without. You must have thought > about it—the coefficient of the body > is another body—but do not forget > that there are people who are willing > to staple your palm to your chest. > Know there are places it isn’t wise to go. > Begin again if you must: there are ways > to make up for what you have been before, > the dust in the corners that collects you. > Sympathy is overrated. > Rethink how lack > becomes everyone’s master, drives us > into town and spends our money. > Quiet: the trees are napping. > Water meets itself again. > We reach for the days that precede us > and the world keeps us from knowing > too much. The body loves music, > the abandoned road of it; > each day a peel > lengthens in the shadow of blossoms, > fabric weaves itself into light. > Pay attention to the patterns. They repeat— > terraces erode, groves lie fallow— > order is cognate of joy.

If death is inevitable, if it is a sure > thing that this face, these hands, > this body that holds a lifetime of this living, > will, someday, no longer be here, > if you don’t get to take a single thing with you — > > then — > > why spend a moment more refusing, > worrying about who might disapprove, > measuring every move > as if there is some fixed formula you must > find? Why hold tight to anything? > > Why not, instead, love every honeyed drop of yourself, why not leap into life—belly-laughing > and light, light like the soft kiss of moonlight, > light like the light that you are, > have always been, will always be— > > why not take this quickly passing day > by the hand and dance > like there’s no tomorrow? And if you’re too tired > to dance, why not rest lightly here > just as you are?