From The Oasis of Now
Water, even bluer!
I am on the veranda, Rana by the pond in the garden.
She is washing clothes.
Leaves are trickling down.
“What a sad season,” my mother said this morning.
I responded, “Life is an apple best eaten unpeeled.”
Our neighbor weaves at her window, humming a soft tune.
I am reading the Vedas,
sketching pebbles, birds, clouds—
nasturtiums burst into blossom.
And me, cracking open a pomegranate I think to myself,
“If only the seeds of the heart could be so transparent,”
when the juice spurts out and splashes into my eyes,
vermilion tears trickling down.
My mother bursts out laughing
and Rana too.