Disarrangement (edit 1)

The night was cold,
the sky an almost cloudless hole.
As my breath rose
to the skidding moon
to look for stars,
footsteps rang out
like metal.
I turned to run,
but slipped
and shattered spirit.

Curled up at home,
I tried to write,
but gave it up
to fall asleep
in Rehman’s warmth,
where Yenna Solla Pogirai‘s
twist-dancing streams
shimmered over tabla-outlined
bass-toned hills, and Chitra’s
sweet, carved voice
spilled liquid ribbons
into Yengae Yenathu Kavithai‘s
textured harmonies.

Disarrangement redux.
Orange, saffron,
red, green, yellow, blue,
dream-filled my mouth,
and stayed, spice-like.
I woke
and shouted,
“I’m not her.
Here a phoenix-artist
makes her home!”

When Rehman’s voice sings
“swades hai tera”
and “khoye khoye dil se tere”,
it’s like a pestle on my heart.
Oh, rich bass drones
and shimmered streams in
Yenna Solla Pogirai,
take me home,
to sleep, again.

© Heather Quinn 1 Apr 2006 (edited 13 Jan 2011) all rights reserved

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