“through the act of living, the discovery of oneself is made concurrently with the discovery of the world around us. . ."

Monday, May 18, 2009

The Waiting

Through the cracks in the roof
shafts of sunlight
like arrows piercing my heart.
In the beam, specks of dust turn golden.
I hear the doves' wings flapping
and the cooing of the lovers -
I remember him.

Bats hang motionless, waiting for the night -
how docile they look, like he did,
before he savoured the sweetness of my blood!

The wind has died.
Fallen leaves do not chatter.
The doves have left.
Bats are stirring in their sleep.

Night approaches-
I wait - listening for his footfalls...
********** Balachandran V, Trivandrum 18.05.2009


  1. oohhhhh..dark and boding in content. I feel the quietness and the waiting...excellent thought imagery...
    PS, see if you can leave me a comment now...Thanks



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