Paper Flower

A summer night’s dream Dreamt in many languages Carving the same name On whitewashed walls Squinting against the 3:30 pm sun Swaying in the reluctant breeze Always in the same colour Even when stripped of all colour I only see you in the peculiar pink of the bougainvillea of my dreams

Work-Life Balance

Catching the dusty sun beyond my home; Across a line of borrowed water Dying, still, between two slabs of concrete; Grey half-circles under its eyes, In a hurry to leave, The day’s pending jobs hiding in twilight To reappear at daybreak When a dusty sun rises.

Trigger Warning. (Sort of)

Hot chocolate, sunshine, books 3 days, trees, wood, a soft bed, a nook by the window, no network, food that nourishes a healed body, a healed mind, a healed soul. Cheese, music, wine, cool breeze, firelight, a long night, eyes not swollen by sleep. eyes not clouded by fear. eyes not glazed by memory. persistent,…

Before the New Sun Rises

Am I doing the cliché, looking at a poem, and thinking of you? Did I make you smile, bitterly, Looking at this poem, and thinking of me? There are two magical words in the language of poets: Qurbat, is one. You’d know, I’m near. I had to leave, The part of me behind, The one…


Do you see them, in hundreds? Dancing to the river’s music The breeze carried. Do you see the forevers etched in their veins? To be dead tomorrow.


There is a lot hidden, under your skin. Memories travel unbidden, under your skin. What countries lie unmapped, unexplored, in wait, Their languages in riddles, under your skin. Their dried up oceans have now become heaps of sand, Perhaps there are pearls hidden, under your skin. Those sights and sounds and smells you remember so!…

Nightmare I

The ocean takes away pieces of my soul, I cannot leave, I am the shore. I wake from nightmares of blinding lights to your clear voice, whispering, “Hush! Come here, Hush! Its okay, come”, and you hang up I pry my eyes open I want to see your face, you’re here before I fall into…


Have you been bold enough to write in red? In life, Red may have told you of its grandiose of love and passionit’s twin mistresses.Do you remember a life before that? When red only glared at mistakes? I chose to write our lives in red.I’ll let you decide if this will be one glaring error Or another, that…


How easy it is to write your name;How easy to make your language my own;How easily the curves come to my hands,When I trace the words on your bodyAs if your skin was paperAnd I was writing a letter to… What is my name?Do you remember?I must’ve given it to you to keep safe –That…

To an Ocean

I picked a few empty shellsalong your shore.Empty homes of your childrennow long gone;Echoing you, the breeze, andtheir conversations with the sand.I wear them around my neck,at a home away from you;Little kisses, a sunset, and loverest on my bones.