artwork by Sohan Qadri
Yesterday I touched Space.
Or did it touch me?
I know that my fear touched me.
My awe.
I understand now, those that retreat to caves.
Those that gaze into the fire
and enter its consumption rather than watching their world crumble.
The relationship,
the career,
the identities,
Ma is demanding.
She wants and wants.
A mirror of my own hunger.
Forget the Devil, this is where I have sold my soul.
To my ache and my desire.
To the doorman, I am the same.
To the grocery store clerk, I am the same.
To my neighbors, I am the same.
A women/girl with long hair and a large tattoo.
Someone who likes to laugh, cook, watch funny films, make funny voices.
A martini now and then.
One olive, a little dirty.
" La, la, la, la, la" she says.
"Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha" she says
"Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma" she says
All this fed by the burning
the slithering of awakening
Inside this woman/girl are thought of daggers,
hibiscus, incense, and intoxication.
Thoughts of ashes and cremation grounds.
Thoughts of wisdom of breasts, and blood and bone.
Inside this woman/girl is a thousand crows
a feline ferocity
a million rising suns
and a river of lunacy.
"La, la, la, la, la" she says.
"Ha, ha, ha ,ha ,ha" she says.
"Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma" she says.
-Nisha Bhairavi
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