My grave in your thoughts

a final resting place,

no dirt but ashes on a distant shore

my name to be spelled on a salty taste

of a stranger’s tongue.

And what will remain

but the fading memory of my face

in the soft cradle of your hand.

Nothing lasting forever,

nothing ever needs to stay

only ashes on a distant shore

scattered across the sand.


March 17, 2021

“on the eve of my birth”


Smooth black down the seam of her dress-

A hundred years not enough on a grave

when a kiss resurrects your desires for a stone

decorated italics marking all that was done.

Shame and greed, but how love one more kiss

on these lips old and dry, to embrace

one last dance of a beautiful end with no trace

of the who I became and the what I’ll become-


If I Ever Fall


Who will break my fall

If I ever do fall.

Who will gather pieces

if I ever break

and becomes my glue

or will sooth my soul.

Who will calm this ache

burning deep within,

where would they begin

If I ever break

or If I ever fall.


“The splendid thing

about falling apart


is that

you can start over

as many times

as you like.”

― Sanober Khan, A Thousand Flamingos




The parrots came back today.

A pandemonium of green feathers crowding the feeder

pushing, squawking for a taste of sunflower seeds.

My mind wanders, the feathery sound clouding thoughts

of time and place, adrift, my heart weeps.

How do I grasp life when it seems to slowly slip away?

Words mute in my throat do not follow

the path of my pen, building up, choking a voice

of freedom and love, the sound hollow

while I feed my needs, pushing, amidst the noise

around this flock of lost souls, to find my way.



“Demented by uncertainty,
Fidgeted by certainty,
That’s how we abide by what we call destiny.”
― Komal Paudyal

Dreams of Sand


How easy the sand shifts it shape

at the mercy of the waves it transforms

around rocks, and this hand like a god

changed a course drew by nature.

My imprint tells of me when it’s caught

in the rush of the water and the sand

to remain for a moment, just a moment,

‘til the waves come along once again

and erase all I was in the sand-


“Sand lines my soul which is filled with the breath of the ocean.”

― A.D. Posey

I am

I was a light, along a path to seek

I thought I was a light.

I was of love, a kiss upon a cheek

I thought I was of love.

I was the ink, for words a soul to speak

I thought I was the ink.

But I’m but flesh to age and rot

and turn to dust,

a flick of cells I must

for all the above I’m not-


“I don’t know what keeps me mingled—
in excitement and grief.
I know no name of this fire I burn in—
but only that it is and I am.”
― Rafy Rohaan

My Side of the Fence


My Side of the Fence


How green is the grass I wonder

on this side of the fence.

Tell me how do you see my pretense

to color the grass with a green

that won’t fade on the eyes,

spider webs same as lies

cloaks my truth of how green

is the grass on this side of the fence-


July 15, 2020

“If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.”

― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

In the Spaces Between


In the Spaces Between

If you want to know where love hides

where dreams are life and life are dreams

look carefully in the spaces between,

hardly notice ‘tween seconds our lives

leave us longing in search for much more.


Between thoughts we speak truth

and we hide in the seams of our youth

our need to take fly and to soar

in between the blue skies

and the dirt quietly swept on the floor.


So look careful in the shift of our eyes

for a space between shadows and light

you will find the answers that hide,

but only asleep in the night we have seen

what we seek in the spaces between-


July 13, 2020

“Between the lines thoughts were felt. In a way words could never read.”

― Maira Cheeda

How I am Inside


How I am Inside


If I looked like I am in my mind

you would carefully find

the fierce colors of sunset

as reflects on the waves.

And my skin like in summer

would resemble the rays

 of a bright morning sun.

If I looked like I am in my soul

you would think all the fun

in the laughter of children

lingers under my tongue.

And the shade of my eyes

would be blue like the skies

if I looked like I am

in my soul and my mind.


June 30, 2020

“Inside each of us are memories, fantasies and desires for home – a shelter waiting to be built, a place of peace to be revisited.”
― Louisa Thomsen Brits