A Series of Tanka by Kala Ramesh

   love
   is an oasis
   you say…
   or does our thirst
   play tricks on us?

   surfing through
   channels of thought
   I tune into
   the lingering memory
   of mother’s favourite saris

   she lights
   the bronze lamp
   each morning
   a new day for mother to love
   her Goddess, all over again

   a hundred lies
   just to cover
   the first
   his conscience
   allowed him to say

   my family wept
   over our dog’s death
   I weep
   for those days I grudged him
   his early morning walk

   draped in fragrance
   the jasmine withers . . .
   my breath
   through the flute, cherishes
   each note as it fades

   autumn fields
   a fork in the road
   widening
   our shadows
   even farther

   worn out sandals
   the cobbler finds them
   difficult to mend
   and I find them
   hard to discard

   rain in the city
   unrelenting
   through the long night
   my life hangs
   on your laboured breath

   laughing
   over old stories…
   suddenly
   I feel that mother
   is young again

   for eons, waves
   have danced the pebbles
   to perfection . . . still
   it’s the sand between my fingers
   that leaves me spellbound

   it is possible
   I tell myself
   to feel
   the depth of the sky
   from within me…

The writer of this series tanka is Kala Ramesh. I have never heard of this poet before until my English teacher introduces it to me. He thought I would like the turn on the third sentence of every stanza, and I actually really do. Merry Christmas everyone!

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