Suchita Parikh-Mundul's Poems
there is only silence in the space
that separates us.
a quiet niche of solitude
stirring up a past
hued as richly as a painting,
surreal as the music of art.
our interaction closes the gap,
the fog of space
settles, dissipates,
dissolving temporality.
our lives converge,
we reflect each other,
take a pure journey
towards the core,
form a sacred bond,
exchange experiences
of life.
this is how we view,
this is darshan.
I leave the symbolism to you
much has been written of divine love
so this is not a love poem.
I only speak of the ripeness
that laps at the hedges
of gardens with rich foliage;
of silhouettes of plentiful trees
and bursts of flowers
behind the forest door;
of birds perched in pairs,
deep in floral beds,
insulated with togetherness,
trilling about evermore;
of a tranquil scene steeped
in aromatic florescence,
with a lush blanket
of glittering stars above;
of a middle ground where
the setting builds as
youthful beauty blossoms,
unscathed by thorns.
this is all the heaven I speak of,
this and nothing more.
poetic rumination
over peaks and troughs,
secret thoughts
slide in tandem,
gliding, cruising
like breath on skin,
into narrow passes,
stretching across valleys
and pulsating rivers,
embracing flight,
routing a rhythm
of poetic mass
with lyrics,
meeting at an infused
culmination of expression,
falling in metred effusion,
bursting like stars in the
s k y.
womanhood
stems begin to elongate like the earlobes of a woman
whose dangling aphorisms are weighed down by patriarchs.
they stretch down, and upward with flight,
mutating light into subtle patterns,
like a crocheted design.
what can you see through it?
a network of branches—
sturdy, variegated;
dappling shade,
demanding space.
uncertainty grows
only in trunks of trees.
splashes of neon
mark each tendril,
petals expand
with pop-artsy deftness—
this is where they dare,
where they bloom,
where they grow.
the forest breathes
affirmation,
as women do.
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