Her face like a landscape for me to traverse;
a landscape lying asleep,
and in a quiet afternoon
I could move around
to get to know all those signs
that marked the hidden places
which lay in a shadow, hidden from the scrutiny of a judgmental crowd;
Her mouth relaxed, nostrils held in a rhythm that knew the life's symphony,
and in sleep untouched by anxiety,'like the doors of a house,
open to all wayfarers who chanced to stop, they breathed amicably, in and out.
Her cheeks like lakes without a ripple spoke of her inner serenity.
Her eyes like palm leaves covered the spaces of two canoes, now anchored to their assigned posts in retreat and saving the unheard litanies of prayers,
and at last, I ascend to her brow, the vast stretch of the golden dunes of
sand, where during the day, a storm would sometimes rage
 and tear apart the threads that held the fabric of her entire being.

(c) Sushama Karnik
17 Feb 2018

Thank you +David Testa for the image
Originally shared by ****
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