Blithe Belonging
“I yearn for a roof
Beneath which to clasp the ones I love
to my heart.
Deeply, vigorously.
To hold them close
In a safe haven.
A sanctum that would expand,
Covering them
Like a magical protective halo.
In this sanctuary of blithe belonging,
I want to live
I want to love…”
Cocoon Warmth
“Winter might try and pry.
Her cold silver hands
picking at planks and panels,
Looking for gaps and fissures.
But she cannot reach within
the birdhouse.
So tender, these human nestlings;
They dream of spring,
Wrapped in their warm cocoons.
They will thrive,
Even while the angry gale
that could snuff them out,
Shrieks outside. ”
Hearths at Evenfall
“The charcoal comes to life,
Roofs emerge from the canvas grain.
Walls, with pretty rows of bricks
Spreading into little mazes
Of streets and lanes and paths.
There are inroads and alleys in my mind,
That will paint itself
Into pebbled corners
And rising thatches,
Doors, windows
Latches and brackets.
But all this will be
But lifeless form,
Till the flames of the hearth come alive.”
Solace
“Thrown away by hands
that scratched and bruised,
Into arms that caress and comfort.
What it must feel like
To relearn trust again.
What it must feel like
To not fear,
the sight
of human hands again.
What it must feel like
To relearn love again...”
Rhapsody
“We will run, with the wind in our hair.
Looking up at the merry blue sky,
we will dream and dance
in the warmth,
Of a benevolent sun.
As we hold hands
And stamp upon the dewy green,
We will sing,
With voices we never knew we had,
With a sweetness we never knew we had.
Much will take root and blossom here.
Much will take root and blossom here.”
Repose
Depicts a father cradling a swaddled infant.
“Day and dust settle.
As I hold you, you blink at the stars
And nod off into sleep.
A calm settles.
A freedom,
That only the embrace of walls, can bring.
Now it is only peace, my love.
Only peace.”
“When I was about 5, I came to India on a holiday. My father is from a rural fishing village, in Alleppey. Attached to a government school near out house, was a large shed, the equivalent of a village kitchen, that gave free breakfast to poor children. My cousin and I wanted to know what it was like to eat there and my parents were happy to take us. I remember eating upma with sugar and bananas, that morning. The lady who served us food, was very amused to see us sitting cross legged with the local children. In the hut behind her, a man sat smiling at us. He was holding a sleeping infant. In spite of their humble circumstances, there was an atmosphere of contentment around them. This painting is based on that memory. ”