For Baby

For Baby

I don't want to punish anyone
But Life is it's own legal tender
Why was my breath cut off?

I waned before I waxed
Because the wealthy must be taxed.
And I was the poorest of us all.

Imagine my parents bowed
By the empty hollow crib
They hadn't a pillow case
Stacked with notes
Or time to exchange
Their paltry bit
Of cash.

Tender them their desolate rights
Father and mother of mine
For one brief lonely night.

I lost my life, my  legacy
Doctor
You lost your
Human rights.

(c) Amrita Valan 2016

Generational Pathways

The more I see this world, and it's machinations, the more I see the petty intrigues of fellow humans, the more frightened I get.
The more scared I am, the more wary I become, absolutely retreating into myself, afraid to interact, frozen half life.
I smile like the proverbial Cheshire cat, an enigmatic Sphinx  of coy artifice.
Full of small talk, light inconsequentials.
While inside I sink into a despair, that I won't acknowledge.

Where is the wonder, the promise of joy  in companionship? Which bubbled over only in the growing up years?
What the hell am I doing, dancing around daguerreotypes, making delicate figure eights around complicated people? Pas de douxs of compliance.
Then I come home and open the doors to the wonderful honest and inspiring world I inhabit with my children.
They're innocent, and straightforward. Their hearts are oceanic, full of loving energy, ready for adventure.
We play brain Vita, cut out a paper tree, or do origami houses and boats, lick the last crumbs of plum cake together.
True togetherness is such tenderness.
A crowd can encapsulate you with it's cold containment.
My mommy moments with two adorable boys who adore me unstintingly, only make my heart long for longer stints, more opportunities.
To see this story through.
I know we are parents. Doomed to love an eternity in a few short decades.
That we will see only half the life of those we gave lives to. Gave our lives for their very best interests.
That we will never see the end of our conjoined stories, or be there in a spiritual capacity to guide, hold up and support them.

I willingly cede my cute beauties. I have survived this harsh fact.
Inside your temples of consciousness I find an abode.
Where through your evolution, I will be refined.

And this me will walk the world again.
Better than before. Clothed in new garb.
A new body, a transformed face, an altered mind.
A higher dimensional consciousness.

I will not know I am I.

Yet in my journey I will seek and search out all the old familiars, the sanctum sanctorums  that formed the essence of all my existences.

I will know myself again. By all I befriend.
Befriending, I will learn anew.
I will be aware this time, not afraid.
By teaching my children to cast out their fears I will cast out mine.
As I straighten their little backbones, I will walk taller.

And into this marvelous sunset of  insubstantiality, we will gaze our unspoken admiration, our unspeakable love, of how far we have come, of how high we have reached, surpassing each other's expectations

Generations, are upgrades, wondrous stairways of double helical actualization.

The pathways coil inside. We shall ascend to overcome, all that limits us today.

To be contd
(c) Amrita Valan 2016

Your Lovely Mind

Your mind

Your mind so young and tender
will weather a hundred storms
As you age my lovely boys
i hope you learn
to stay kind,
Be gently strong.

I need your minds
to be mature enough
To hold the real gold.
Forgo the allure of things that are
Meant to tarnish and rust
Like iron cold.

keep it real
keep it pure
sacred inside
Those fragrant doors.
So my memories can be your balm
In stormy sorrow, a vial of calm.

For one day my sons
I will be far away and gone
There'll only be odd things,
Without end,
that hold my scent.
My trail of junk
You must discard,
But play it by the ear
keep whatever thrills you
That's ethereal and dear.

It breaks my heart, sons,
That we won't meet again
my face dissolves in ruins,
Braving raining pain.

But my sons
your minds are sacred pages
Retainers of sombre traces
The incense of long burnt ashes
Of the rites of lovely
Loving passage.

That perhaps, you will keep in hiding.
There Forever
I will be abiding.

Perhaps not ever
To be remembered,
As I really was, but as
Through your misty eyes
And feeling hearts,
The threads of my distant life
will have been recast.

And long live my lovely boys
with grandchildren grateful
At their knees,
Eager hearers
Loyal bearers
Of many a tale to tell,
Now and forever
Soft hearts regale,
A time will come
When only memories dwell.
A time will come
When All wondering
Itself shall Cease.

We are time tested
Tender narratives
Floating in the breeze.

(c) Amrita Valan 2016

I want to See

I want to see years ahead.
Light years ahead.
I want to see alpha and omega.
The beginning and the end of the Universe.
The beginnings within the endings.
The endings coiling about the beginnings.
I want closure.
The end of the story, the Heart of this strange Affair.
I want my story.
Beginning, before my birth,  concluded only when the ramparts of Time and Space reveal
their true nature.
I want to unravel this mystical connection between I, and Us. 
The intertwining between My sentience, and absolute Universal silence.
I want knowledge of the cause behind my presence, and the reason for your absence.
I want to see you all again,  through the mightiest arc of Infinite space and the entire gigantic span of time.

Oh, to be so contained, within the cruel coil of mortality.

Who Am I

What am I?
Am I just a poetry maker
A people pleaser
A word romancer
Arranging little compositions
little litters of alliteration
Making love with pretty phrases
Forgoing the face to faces
Seeking the heart behind facades
The mind behind the masquerade
And yet the hard truth and fact
People react to First impact
and thereafter they sense the core
And slowly the shapes alter
More and more.

Things change people change
Alterations minute
Dance the game
Action is where it is at
Words don't have a clue to that
i sit back, I take my time
Churn up pretty words
that trill and chime
You pick and choose
A fancy verse
I blossom upon your blessings
Or wilt at your curse
Who am I ?
What am I?
Live for your words of praise,
Do I?
For your approval I preen and pose,
If I'm ignored,
Do you suppose,
That I shall die
A poet no more
merely a verbose unreal bore.

Who are the people who
Play on words
Who artfully arrange
To touch heart chords
the beat makers, the pace setters
of poesy
Am I like you?
What do you see?

Please tell me
For I need to know
The strange substance
At my core
Once the words
Are out and about
Ink on paper,
Will I be done then,
And be no more?

(c) Amrita Valan 2016

Human Ants

Lifetimes allotted
An ants measure
When human mind
So rare
An eternal treasure

We who live
We who believe
Bear witness for existence
Seek purpose
Without relief

We who feel
Moulding and shaping
An Universe
In our minds

Maya morphing
To Reality
Yet Reality
So blind.

Like Blind seers
we weep
At the portals
To stars

So Fatefully Near
to the Gods

Yet so Far.

(c) Amrita Valan 2016

Welded

You're insubstantial
And I
am welded to you

You are barely there
Eking out a frugal store of life
Out of meagre supplies
And I
Am welded to you.

You're a fragile breath
you are in a state of vacuous lent
denied succor,  vital air
Mother, incognito,
You are hardly there.

You walk in some dizzying faint
your eyes hard bright as chips of ice
Mine own are frightened, penitent
You are aloof twice removed, hesitant

The farthest you go, my Dearest
I weld my heart to you.

My promises unspoken
Unheeded
To be forever
One with you.

Hear my silent cry
bear my broken echoes
universe of fated follies
Twinkling
As they die.

You take away souls
Parsimonious ferryman
Abridged are we
By your ghoulish jetty,
But before your ether bridge
We daring stand
Fast we hold our familiars
On faith ingrained
This love
Won't be vain.

Farewells
We refuse to
Understand.

Welded from dust to flesh
To pheromones
Wedded forever
Betrothed are we
On frenzied fateful dance
Of hypnotic hormones.

Welded by grammatical genes
to articulate blood and bone.

Mother I carry you
On and on
Holy Tabernacle a dreaming Covenant
Never, ever be gone.

You're lost in corridors
Whose corners we yet,
cannot choose to turn,
Tossed in storms
Your frailty betrayed
Forever alone, undone.

And in another city
in my room of resurrected woe
I restore your doom
Rebuilding sorrow

On and on Mother
The chain unbreakable
Ductile and Malleable
Thin beaten sheets
Of beautiful pain
Golden luminous dreadful strain,
Hideously strung out
to net an entire universe
Voided
In Loss...

Not the only begotten
Son of God
We all bear
the beatific cross.
The epicentre of loss
that holds full measures
Of erstwhile gain.

She taught me
His immense pain
to lament
She now herself walks
Agonized avenues of
Gethsemane.

Indestructibly I
Shall share your pain,
Forever I
am welded to you.

 
(c) Amrita Valan 2016