Eat Pray Love
Poems are my feathers, my wings
He, who lives in my room
He, who lives in my room
You live in my room and sip my tea
It’s evening and
I can inhale the fresh aroma
of a popular darjeeling blend
The philosopher’s wounds
The philosopher’s wounds
1.
It’s the hour when evening dissolves and I return to darkness. But if there is darkness this deep, there must be light somewhere.
Companions
Companions
They start for the long road
and stick to each other
ready to share their stories
but between them
no secrets are possible
Renewal
Renewal
She came around
like the earth
to water every stalk
to rake the garden clean
ground and below.