I am an ancient city

with twists and sinews marking time

through dust of nations…

 

there were golden roads with laughter

this is what we remember

that at the edge of our worlds

ridged with pink lavender

like your fingers after

the deluge you saved me from

and so many others

you still patted the earth

tenderly wetting with tears

as though the children

had had no milk from their mother

 

I am an ancient city

whose streets walk in and out of stores

homes gardens wisdoms churches temples

 

I used to look at the ground from the sky

behind the awesome terrifying

dark clouds that crashed like navy ocean

 

boats tossed against boats and trees

uprooted:

 

bodies floated in some river

washed up from the gorge

of painted desires hungry for

absolution or resolution

or hungry just because

it was easier to be hungry

than to be fulfilled

maybe this is the mistake

they had made—not listened

 

to the shamanic drums

flutes over the orange tinged rivers

from setting suns

the calling of the peacocks

whose golden feathers spoke secrets

 

But the deluge had come

townsfolk had wandered

knowing of their end: quiet resignation

itself was their absolution

 

Now we in limbo waited

and I with the memory of city streets

awoke at the foot of this ancient mountain

brought the food bid us build again…

 

There must always be a town center

with bells, gardens, flowers, fruits

music of little rivers artfully flowing

between trees and trills

 

whose roots entangled made a weave

for the ground of the city

 

City must always be an oval or a round

to follow pattern of the firmament

where moons hang glowing

 

like your earring, where harps weave

love songs from future ancients

 

where all that is precious

is passed on from hand to heart…

where we lie knowing

that city can never be destroyed

ever again because it hangs

on single petal of cosmic flower

 

It can only dance in the breeze

gently like cradle to the hum

of lullaby in 8ths…

 

of that cosmic mother

who needs not a city

 

She is the firmament..

 

this is what my tears wrote

on the old earthen tablet

this is how we recreated

our pillars from root to crown

this is how gold rose again

like flowers and carpets

 

like your translucent shoulders

awakened from the sulphur waters

 

this is how I put on shoes

and walked my streets again

around domed homes

glistening with moonlight

 

sound of water feeding crocus

and vineyards…this is how I danced

my weaving streets again..

 

criss-crossing paths that always

led to the right answer…

 

like a burst of a trillion glow-worms

suddenly swarming from

the night bush

 

and all we could see were stars

arising from the ocean

 

and all we could do

you and I

was love

like this…

 

this is how tenderness was reborn

whole, utterly vulnerable

 

unbreakable.

 

 

 

 

Taoli-Ambika Talwar

Copyright 2012