Say I’m in denial but I just want to be whole
Do I even bother going to bed, because every morning is exactly the same. I wish it was easy to sleep
I wish I could wake up and feel a reason to get up-instead of falling face-first on the ground until the discomfort is too damn much
I wish I didn’t hope for death.
But then, I’d never have to wake up again.
that the way the sun rises
over your naked body each morning
reminds me of how she used to rise
over the Tirumala Venkateswara Temple
back home, how I would ride my bike
to work before dawn and stop to watch
her first rays of light slowly climb the stairs
as if on pilgrimage for some higher meaning.
My grandma used to tell me that I would
miss this place once I leave, that
people come from all over the world to
climb the summit I ride past everyday,
as if all of them carried questions
on their backs only the top could answer.
I told her they were foolish for doing it,
she told me I was like the sun
that is raised in the East only to
settle in the West.
There’s a way in which you wake up
each morning that reminds me of more
than just home; you remind me of dawn
breaking like a dark cloud, of bent backs
and softly folded hands, of Sanskrit chants
and hopeful hearts, of believers and of
those who no longer do.
I asked my Grandmother once, what
do all these people expect to find
at the top? she laughed and
said ‘nothing; they come out here
to leave their questions behind.’
Now I know that you and I
don’t believe in deities as much as we
believe in the sky and everything she holds,
but the way the morning hides in the corner
of your lips refusing to come out
until you smile has me thinking -
that maybe we are all on a journey to answer
the heaviness we carry upon our backs;
and perhaps the journey is in leaving it all behind.
I guess what I am really trying to say is,
I think the sun goes to sleep every night
with a new question tied to her back,
and I think that you have always been
the place she goes to find her answer."
— Pavana पवन (via maza-dohta)