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
They walked miles, miles on tarred roads and lone tracks sure, sure to reach homes, homes their family.
Many days; many days to crossing states, crossing with little food and sparse water.
Waters flow, connecting states, and flow through my state too.
I’m confined within the walls of a house,
House that let me freedom, freedom of choice and choice of selection;
Drinking water to quench thirst, and quenching the pleasure of favourite coffee.
Where have they vanished, or should I assume News changed course, course of newness in old stories?
2020, Deeya Nambiar
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