A Kind of Leaning

 
Day after day I have dreamed
that someday I will adorn myself.
Across the curves of my back
I will scatter a cascade of curls.
There I will tuck and weave
soft yellow marigolds.


I will spread all the essence of flame trees
across my lips.
In the waves of hair beside my ears
two small bakul flowers will hide.


You will come.
You will brush back my hair, bury your nose
beside my ear and breathe me in.
This dream clings to my eyes,
for so many days now.
I have not shared this dream
with anyone yet.


Yellow marigold buds still search for a morning.
The flame trees have not yet awakened.
Evening light grows softer and softer...


One day you will come,
they wait to greet you.


If someone wades knee-deep in water for me,
I never assume
they stepped in simply because they like the water.


If someone's heart burns thinking of me,
never in this life have I
handed them antacid tablets.


I know how to love and how to receive love.
I have never wounded anyone
by treating their affection as weakness.


You came. Every letter of you became mine.
Even your slightest inclination toward me
enchants me, binds me in gratitude.


My thoughts, my words
live through you.
I watch them thrive, and
feel a kind of strength within myself.


In my heart, in my soul,
with the seven notes of your existence
I bind you to me each moment.


At your touch
words nest in all my melodies.
On carpets of bakul
my rhythms form themselves,
waiting to receive you.


Stay. I have not kept you
to my measure. I have shaped myself
to yours.