love and tea

quiet was a word for my heart,
so I silently put her into a teacup for
safe-keeping; in the top cupboard
behind my mom’s smart
guests-only dishes.

and there she sat for some years
rusting while I served tea in cheaper
cups, even in mugs sometimes
not because I have no sense
of propriety in serving tea. Only
to save you, heart.

but there he was, a careful invader
in my small home. While contemplating
words to make him leave, I unwittingly
gave him tea with you: heart and
the only clean teacup.

he left, and I found an empty cup on my
polite dining room table,
a few drops of honey tea
on the tablecloth.

there is no more tea in this apartment,
the graceful teacups have all been given away
to mystified neighbours, street kids to sell,
and garbage men.

he never did return my tea despite
my pleading, my hopes
that he would take the higher road,
that he would cough up my heart.

for you, soon

I have tarried here for a few days,
one or two.

And I’ve been late
for appointments with my God
will He be angry
if His mercy doesn’t extend
to those like me

the sun has come up, the sun
has gone down, the white lines
on the horizon have appeared
and death
mourns every extra day
I have with you.

Today I have kept my appointment,
God.

burden

I am walking to class
and taking a look at the burdens
I’ve carried these years-
better my short poetry
than sleepless nights
riddled with thoughts of
why
heaven is so far away.

time and trust

My friend said to me that trust,
as beautiful as it sounds,
is a gift that I cannot have yet.

Time does its deed on hearts–
the many years in transit,
we barely remember that our souls belong to another.

I thought about my consciousness,
the transience of my self.
The transience of my heart, really,
from love to indifference in some short days,
or jealousy to a blooming sadness.

And I think of all the pashmina scarves
I’d trade in for some time alone with my heart,
and a short talk with my hiding soul.
I will comfort myself with soft things and hot tea
and watch my sadness wither
and my heart regain its lustre.

I will have your trust soon,
a gift you are glad to give me, in time.

Quiet

Quiet seemed like an honest word
but then I thought of you
in the silence,
and it haunted me.

I thought about God
on the subway home tonight
and He thought of me.

Take Anything

Take anything
take my weak eyes
take the seashells I brought home, memories of a sister
take my hands, the authors of mediocre work
my sketchbook, my book of poetry
take my pictures and their frames,
take slow motion out of me, take tea
take my waterproof shoes. My umbrella
Here are my passwords to everything,
have my pens, my open letters
gold and music,
my heart.

But my books,
please leave my books where they are
take anything but them-
my soul escape.