Saturday, December 27, 2008


(An Ode to Oh-Eight)

Because when I fall,
I don’t see what’s ahead.

But I feel wisps
of wind brushing
against my hair.
I allow them to find their way
through my stubbles, and
to glide through the length of my arms -
both stretched
from my shoulders
up to the side of my thighs.

When I met you,
I was standing on some edge,
where the horizon ended
and the sun was not allowed to enter.

There are times when I steal peeks
into your eyes -
in them, I see a reflection
of myself swimming through
violent wind
and finally arriving at that warm space
between your chest and your arms.

And then,
when I land,
I don’t feel a surface.

Instead, I look back.
I scale the depth of the fall with
words bigger than you

and I.

I remember when I took the dive -
I looked into your eyes
and thought I have found a picture
of a home
big enough for two people.

There was a time,
you know,
when I used my fingers to capture
the world with blue ink
because I trusted the transience of events,
as I left fresh letters in a trail
that told everyone where I had gone.

Now, here I am
with both knuckles
endlessly pushing against a door.

1 comment:

lawrencevon said...

i know who "you" is!!!