this little life of mine

laundry basket scattered on the terrace

sun, loving me so very fiercely

i forget that there was a time

my now dry hands folded in prayer

for a moment of leisure such as this

and how many years have passed since then?

when I felt so forlorn in Delhi?

when I played housewife at age 22

and I wanted so deeply to have someone see me.

wrestling sleeplessness till 4 am

classes stretching on till very late evening

and when I got home, so much to do,

and so little understanding.

and why did God not answer?

was it that I had too many pleas?

was He listening to them one by one,

and now, still deciding,

which one He might put at ease?

well, no wonder my luggage weighed so heavy.

as i hang up the fresh linen,

and take in the hills and the scorching sun,

it becomes clear to me

that I had placated all my past hurt

and now they are surfacing,

blisters on my skin

popping one by one.

The Noresoup Jukebox