Day 8

Dear Sunita

How the half decade between us has found its way
through time escaping like chaff
beaten from these solitary grains.
The folds of your robe an inch in clay,
your eyes have seen countless shoots of rice
bloom and perish.
Your heart was once found softly in the
cement walls of the house you never knew;
feet that have known only dust and cobblestone.

Do you lay down in the shadow of the
brilliant temple?
Your hair matted
and with hopes that have succumbed to
the perpetual spinning of the prayer wheels.
Brace yourself for another passerby
who sees only an extension of side walk in your
charcoal eyes.

The tea has been steeping too long
and the bitter leaves paint pictures
of the fog over the foot hills on the roof
of the world.

I send you the sinews of my heart
to wrap around your failing limbs.
These strange lines of latitude
disappear as monsoon season covers
the dauntless children of the valley.

So Breath is our exit...