This road of silence and bridges of words
has always been mine
for travelling.

After miles of silence
i don't know how far i 've trudged
to rescue myself
from my failures,
misunderstandings , unreconciled emotions,
death anguishes
and upheavals.

Sometimes, i cross others
who have overtaken, walked ahead or came from the opposite sides of the road.
this is the road of silence where we
heal from the madness of life.

this is the road of silence
they 've taken as i, for the right reasons or the wrong urges
Tired of our devils and angels arising
from life's trauma.
We mend our heart on this generous roadside air
by reading the scriptures on each day's horizon.

And, at times ,
salvation comes with meanings, words
came like rain,
in small showers of relief.

And we stood up from where we collapsed, embracing the euphoria
in our pains.

Thankful for the gift of words.

Thankful that each word
kissed our lips like a lover.

When carbon hardens -- it became diamond.
but when the heart hardened -- it became dead.
where is your diamond my Heart
who will be your lover on this road.

this is the road of silence.

This is a road of long silences ,

and,  no one knows where he is till the right word shines
like a lamp,
like an answer,
like a safe zone for the night -- so that we
don't have to hang on to our disgraces
till we
are diverted from whatever diverted us from our
dignity
A dignity -- we retrive from where we had absconded it.



This is the road of silence, and you've to take it
your fathers and mothers, your brothers and sisters,
your friends and lovers
are helpless
Its your  ghost of solitude
It gives you your death call , and howls
like Munch's painting,

Only Issa, only Basho
sat calm in their winters
breaking ice for their tea,
knowing , no tea leaves would tell their future.

Drinking their tea 

they moved on
writing their Haikus.

these warriors armed with poetry
reach out for the highest aims.
with
the little flame in their bodies
barely enough to hold themselves
out of the darkness
holding the lights together
where no sun could ever come in.





Every Haiku written,

tight, under a tug of words,

Every Haiku
a new anointement,

a little light spilled
a little bleeding from the soul, a finger pointing the star in the sky,
a cherry tree at midnight blooming ,
a beautiful victory.