“Life is short.”
A statement, she repeated
Three times, expecting an emphasis.
My eyes were trained at the
Common black bird on maple tree
Quiet, unlike its usual chirpy self.
“To be lived and not short.
Here, now and the moment, I live.”
“Why disagree? We are one.” she murmured.
Another common black bird joined in
Together, in silence,
Seemed poised.
I paused my mind; to stillness and tranquility;
Silence embraced my heart and soul.
“In this life….”
2020, Deeya Nambiar
Dispersed seed
Tangled,
In a spider web.
Translated words
Reverberated,
In social media.
Have I read between the lines,
Or, was it, there never was a line?
It was simply,
A spider weaving a cobweb.
An audio of translation shared in social media.
2020, Deeya Nambiar
Holding on to her labels –
Ascribed and achieved statuses,
Meaning of life meant a google search.
‘I am’ is always there;
Who am I but?
2020, Deeya Nambiar
There’s a song in my head, and
Its music I picked ;
Flawlessly, guided mind.
I stepped on the stones by the river side and
Motioned into a dance move,
Waking sleeping energies into a ball,
A fire of emotional deluge.
The wind swirled to unknown rhythms as
My hands reached out to the unknown
Within, deep within
Body and Soul.
In my quiet island
Where silence prevailed,
Stillness watched into emptiness;
Time stood tapping.
My inner child took a
Twirl and smiled;
The song in my head played again.
2020, Deeya Nambiar
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