Poetry — 14 August 2011

A poem by Madhuri

There was just this white.
It was round.
It was empty.
I was there.
It came from my middle
And got much bigger.

That is the moon –
How round and circling –
And then there is the light –
Which she does not own;
And yet we do –
We own nothing
If we are we.
If we are Not,
It owns us –
That is what gives the walls
Dissolution, –
Circular still
But scarcely there
Guaze, thin, breath, fine

Then the love comes –
Sister moon.


Poem and Illustration by Madhuri
from her book ‘More about the Moon’

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