between saree blouses — green, black, and blue, neatly folded and aligned; my mother hides a treasure: the faded sepia of my grandmother, a woman I never met, smiles back at me. my finger travels across, an embossed frame. I read, as one who is sightless — into the story of their lives. across … Continue reading A Photo in a Silver Frame
I’m so excited that these poems of mine, “Bat” and “Crack of Light” are being seen for the first time ever! Thanks again Cephalopress, for putting them out there on your web feature, the Ink Sac. Bat / Crack of Light "It used to benumbinside meuntilIt ripped free,the batimprisonedwithin me"
I’m honoured that my poem “The bird and her guide” was published on the Ink Sac, an online feature by Cephalopress, an independent publisher based out of the UK and Italy. The bird and her guide "He, the true guide gave her more room,enough to express herself,but not too much,for freedom can seem scary at … Continue reading “The Bird and her Guide” was published on the Ink Sac
I am currently in process of writing a memoir, The Gift that is essentially a gift for my twins in the hope that they will have a story of where they have come from. It chronicles the challenges and stories including their father’s stroke in China, my IVF process in India, their pre-term delivery as … Continue reading The Gift – a memoir in process
One left home, traveled across the seas to study, then to study further. He found a job in a city. There, he met his love. They held hands and moved across the seas, to a third and neutral place, together. Both landed as strangers in a new world; their separate pasts and ideas packed into … Continue reading My Two Brothers
for her hips sway and fingers say what lips may from ‘75 to twenty-O-five for whom explosions have shattered the most stubborn slivers of hope fast forward to 2020 - now she crawls in the shards soaked in her own piss and blood The port of Beirut on 4/8/2020, (image from the Bangkok Post)
Part 1 The Shake Up I was on the phone with my husband when the earthquake hit. “There’s a….” were his last words, before he dropped the phone and rushed into the stairway. People screamed. Hundreds descended towards the ground. Maher followed, barefoot, in the dark, he slid his hand along the banister for guidance. … Continue reading My Warrior
A crown of moons appear in dreams, the five of them merged as one. Around a table they sit, they speak of being, doing, of light and dark. “....all are equal in madness and in dreams,” they say. I hear: mwenye, hindiye, lao wai, gweilo, farang. Stand tall, ground your feet, my children kneel, defy … Continue reading Crown of Moons
are the sweet, thick, honey that flows through me from the top of my head, between my breasts, into my hips, down to my toes. You — are the pure nectar that thrills me to bloom, for You — leave a trail; petals of affection and admiration behind my every step You — are my … Continue reading You —
museum of the soul, portal to heaven, vastness of blue, an oeuvre d’art, grey lines shaded in, contours of sharks, ships, orange luminescence changes the painting, flying bats enliven— a new perspective; a sliver, a twinkle, at this temple all are welcome.