As I look at my grandma
I see a bird in a cage
“I was only one of the two in the whole university to receive...”
“...in chemistry”
“...PhD...”
“...stopped...”
“...financial...”
“...fami­ly...child...marriage...how could I...”
Once with wings of gleaming alabaster
Now a wrinkled dull grey
A pitiful little thing
A whole head shorter than my 5’1.5”
As if,
A gust of wind
Could blow her away
Yet,
Large soulful eyes
And a steady stream, exiting her lips
Chastising, complaining, advising
Truly a fire bird
A lot to be learned
Despite being entwined, constantly
In a pool of anxiety she remains
A blazing Phoenix
And even if it’s too late for her to rise from the ashes
There’s still me

Although I won’t live her life Or even
The one she should have had
I’ll live mine

Some strong sensations on my ankle
Unravel me
Dissolve me

Remind me
When pain and suffering
Led the path

I thought it was real,
Was the only,
Was the only way--

And now I wake up to ten thousand
Hairs on the soles of my feet
Tugging me
Into the day
From starlight
And ancestors
Going my way

Remember, remember
I walk on these feet
With curiosity, flexibility,
Wonder and love

Grandmother Earth
Is right down below-- So
Today I can step on
The ground with pure joy,
Embracing this place by
Loving breath from my soles

fondly remember your grandmother's house
as I share with you mine

a pantry, tall as a mountain when I was six.
a forbidden box of sugar cubes that was never really off limits
cookies, warm and soft. how does she always have them?
sitting in the rocking chair, toes miles away from the floors
strange stories you hope aren't true
ice cubes made of lemonade
an afternoon refresher
a sunday spent at home, at your grandma's house

always drawing and painting
playing in the yard
her cats in your lap, warm and fuzzy
she braids your hair with her wise, experienced hands
does she always smell like lavender?
gumdrops and hard candies
playing dominoes on the floor
there's nowhere else I'd rather be
than at home
at my grandma's house

Today was my sister’s birthday
But a day that turned gray
A day that we were celebrating
But took a family member away

This day happened so fast
A day that made everyone in my family gasp
But this day was going to happen sooner or later
On this day my lovely grandmother past

I woke up in the morning
I saw a text
She’s fine
That’s what I thought in my mind

I panicked inside
I hoped in the car with my two sisters and I
While my dad
Oh my dad stayed behind

We drove with silence in the car with no one speaking
But what we did not know was that my grandmother was already sleeping

We pulled up to her neighborhood
When my dad called my sister
He said girls please come back home
We rushed back as fast as we could

My dad stood out front  
Tears streamed down his face
Trying to keep it all in
As I quickened my pace

We ran up to him with our arms wide open
As we cried along with him
No words needed to be spoken

But this day was going to happen sooner or later
On this day my lovely grandmother past

Each night since he left
I trace your words on my skin
I memorize the curve of the L
And try to imagine what you would say

But the truth is I haven’t the slightest clue
You never worried about men, so it seemed.
I wish you had taught me how.

Every night I lay in bed
I twist and turn
Trying to get a glimpse, a catch or a flash
From the moon, from the light
Asking for protection and safety
For my family and friends
To keep them strong and fulfil their dreams.
Asking to let them shine as much as she does.

Every day again
Every morning half awake
Every night when I can’t fall asleep

I’m longing for the light, for the bigger whole, for answers to my questions
For the moon, and for the stars
For your laugh and for your arms
For answers to where you are

And why you left

I’m seeking for the moon, for the light and for myself.
But hoping and longing
Searching while creating

A place for acceptance
Acceptance of unanswered questions and the feeling of guilt
Acceptance of not any longer, and a heart that aches.

It is my aching heart that tells me, to move, to whirl. It is my heart that doesn’t let me sleep. That doesnt let it go. Doesnt let you go. That longs for the light, for the glimpse and the catch.

It is my mind that wonders. That questions if it is the light that warms my heart. If it is the moon that makes it soft.

Or if they’re answers. A confirmation of affiliation. Of love. A sign of sharing. The moon and the stars. The sun and the earth.
Where life ends and begins.

Both observers of the universe.

Together.

I miss you so much

- AIL

Today someone said the word
“Swing”
And it brought me back to a distinct
Flavour
Neither bitter nor sour, but
Sweet
Like the cookies, you baked.

Every time I visited I wanted to
Help
Bake the neatest of cookies and
Play
Afterwards in the playground by your now
Old home
You no longer live there but I remember

Every childhood beath I drew
Exist
In that home, nesting in the door
Frames
Measuring my height and the brick wall where we used to
Hide
During those summer nights

it was still pitch black when she slid out from under the princess and pea
sized stack of her mother's quilts

her feet slapped the chilly
wooden floorboards
of her grandmother's screened sleeping porch
as she scurried into the main house

made her way into the kitchen
snatched several day old biscuits
stashed them in the pockets of her flowered flannel robe

silently, assuredly she swept a mason jar from the pantry shelf
carefully crept to the icebox
poured herself a fridgid, frothy jar of cow juice


slid silently

out the side door into the crisp predawn air
of the country morning

on winged feet

made her way to her favorite meadow
plopped unpretenciously under the
welcoming branches of grandfather oak
snuggled into the ruff bark of his trunk

a bite of biscuit
a sip of cold cow juice

a smile

what better way to begin a day
than welcoming
the bird's songs?


patiently she waited
the sun began to rise
the field flowers turned  their faces toward the light
as her feathered friends songs began


smiling, self satisfied she said outloud, to no one in particular,

it is good to greet the day
it is better to catch the first worm

Dear Granny,

I saw someone
a week ago,
In the streets
on my way back home..

Her wrinkled skin burnt by the Sun
Her attire frayed and patched with dust
An empty oil can of crumpled tin
A humble sum peeks shyly from within
Her hand stretched, a cup formed from her palms
It shakes too furiously to beg for alms
She speaks a language alien to me
Yet her eyes tell me a universal story
A tale of a debt that was never paid
Kindness was dealt a hand of apathy instead
And the care with which a seedling grows
Was not returned as winter crept close
Because fall came and went, and the old leaves are spent
Shed across the city streets, with none to speak for the dead

Like the world around me I know not
why I should care
Her face is that of a stranger to me
Yet I keep waking up
on account of these dreams
A similar picture, a similar scene
And at the heart of it
The face is yours,
Granny.

Love,
Soham