Belonging

This poetry flew after a conversation with a dear yogi friend on cultural appropriation… … Humming like a bee. Breathing like Darth Vader. Yogi – am I allowed to be? Or just a cultural invader? Dancing like a star. Solid as a rock. My heart like diamonds afar, where to go, how to take stock?…

Your Light in my Darkness

I still feel your sense on me, as my senses slowly ease into a gentle yoga flow. Waking up in agitating heart pain with no words to explain, I still remembered your solid body on me. Wanting to cry in despair, I still had to smile as I recalled the un-asked for pleasure your strong thrusts created…

Quilombo* in Colombo

The early morning drive to the airport feels surreal – my time  in India more like a dream. Once more I get the opportunity to observe traditional village life and routines from my taxi’s window: Old guys dragging themselves into the day wearing not much more than the traditional loin cloth. Guys’ conglomerations slurping chai…