The Union

I am the union
Of two souls
Cast into a mold
They fought against
The union
of what the universe
never permitted
to remain tethered
by more than a cord between hearts
Morphing within
into a noose of sharp wire
I m an impossibility
become possible
I m what was not meant to be
and yet
came to be
I was meant to be
the rose
that blooms
in sands
that are barren
but I became
a prickly cactus
that drew tiny roses each day
out of fingers
That know no better anymore
Than the comfort of ruptured cells
It seems right
Even outside
Even in me
I m the cloud
that is brought about by waters
lost to air
like smoke
that cannot be held in palms
to bring raindrops that the land craves
only to realize
it didn’t want it
the more the droplets soak
into its crevices
the more they teasingly remind it
of its barrenness
of    its      unq u e n c hable    thirst
I am the tree
that was never to take root
in the sands
that didn’t know
where they themselves belonged
but yearned
for a spore to guide them
where they were meant to stay
only to realize
it was not for them
they could not offer strength
which they themselves lacked
I m the one wrong stitch in a tapestry
that falls in shreds over the one wrong twist of threads it took
Which makes it all seem wrong
All the right in it
Regrets the core of each thread
I am the life
That came to be
out of the stench of death
the light that rose from the pit of darkness
that never found its place again
flickering in wake
of what would never be lit by it
I have waged a war against my own self
tearing it
to reform it
in a way
that would keep my roots together
and yet they would be ripped
in opposite directions
taking parts of me
with them
But perhaps
we were never intended to be whole
in that brokenness
I found You
in that brokenness
I recognize you
and in it
I    keep you O Lord    in my heart
till my soul knows
a better destiny


I have a knack for poems
But words can fail to be loam
For saplings of feelings
That bear long lost leaflings
Of joy, desire, peace:wondering
If I drove them away–
Or you who didn’t stay:
So I sift through each day.
I have a knack for poems
Making my heartstrings strum
Each time receding into shadows
That haunt my self-more hollow
It all seems: i reap and I sow;
Asking for more and more
Yet feelings are meant to lure;
Charmingly destroying the cure.
I have a knack for poems
Poems that haunt my being.
I have a knack for poems
Poems that show unseen.
I have a knack for poems
Poems that slip words-
Leaving me still unsure.


Let’s sit and talk

Over a bowl of cereals

And make decisions

That impact millions

Let’s sit and talk

In expensive suits and walk

Pretending to be saviours

Yet in truth launching careers

Let’s sit and debate

Over Syrian State’s fate

Talk of Daesh, launch on children bomb raids

Bearing medals of a Crusade

Let’s sit and condemn violence

Deem them to humanity an offense

Vote in your ‘power houses’

And sign deaths of innocent

Who then is violent?

You or ‘them’ or the innocent.

The sense in senselessness

The words lingering in silence

The submission in defiance

The strength in my reliance

The occupation in solitude

The weakness of my fortitude

The nurture in my negligence

The madness in my absence

The depth in my distance

The oblivion in awareness