Vijaya Sundaram

Poet, Musician, Teacher, and Amateur Visual Artist

Respect
Respect
©April 19th, 2018
Vijaya Sundaram
 
We learn it sideways
We learn it when upside-down
We forget its face.
 
Look it in the face
Memorize its sharp facets
Recite its name thrice.
 
Stand right where it stands
Wear it, absorb, become it.
Shed no tear, stand up.
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Time Enough
Time Enough
©April 18th, 2018
By Vijaya Sundaram
 
Longing comes in many forms:
Plants reaching for light;
Dogs yearning for the outdoors;
Squirrels chasing each other;
Lovers dreaming of each other,
Artists imagining perfection;
But what is this other longing –
The need for an ending?
The need to turn to the last page,
Secretly, without anyone knowing,
And peer in, hoping for answers?
 
I wish to disown it, to be
Content going from page to page,
Taking detours along the way.
But that other, secret longing persists:
To stand tall over the beginning,
The middle, and the end, and straddle
All the chasms with their tenuous bridges
And stare unblinkingly into a sky
Filled with stars, though I know
That this is the luxury of a life
Filled with time enough to stare.
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Tightrope
Tightrope
©April 17th, 2018
By Vijaya Sundaram
 
What is this vast ache
Spreading like wildfire
In my arteries?
 
What is this hot need
To reach out, and out
And spreading upwards?
 
All comes to an end,
Every blaze dies down
Rain pours down on all.
 
Can one be of use?
Can one rise above,
Can the smoke rise still?
 
After the cresting
Come the troughs, and this
Is hard to weather.
 
I don’t care for this –
The scrambling after
Success and reward.
 
And yet, a voice speaks,
Says, “What do you have?
What will you offer?
 
Striving is painful
Not striving is death.
A tightrope awaits.
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Spending Time With Plants
Spending Time With Plants
©April 16th, 2018
By Vijaya Sundaram
 
Spending time with plants
Makes you quiet and still,
Like young leaves growing.
You push clean, fresh dirt
In tender peat pots,
Pat down the surfaces,
And say a soft word
To each sweet seedling –
It matters not what.
 
It’s the plants that weave
A spell of kindness
As you sit with them.
And they grow for you,
And you wish them well,
For you know them all,
And you helped them grow.
You are reverent,
Life is all around.
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When Winter Stays
When Winter Stays
©April 16th, 2018
By Vijaya Sundaram
 
Gold sparks in the grate.
Cold rain on the hopeful trees.
Spring, an age ago.
 
Bones get cold and still.
Feet don’t move until I will.
Spring, get in my step!
 
Earth spins round and round
Lose your way, and find your home.
Stars await above.
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Sudden Love
Sudden Love
©April 14th, 2018
By Vijaya Sundaram
 
Love comes in many forms
Brutal and sudden,
Sweet and slow,
Like a flash of lightning,
Or the slow blush of dawn.
When it is sudden,
It’s a boulder rushing downhill,
Crushing all in its path.
Sometimes, it’s just easier
To get out of the way, leap aside
Exit through a trap door,
And find loneliness instead.
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What We Cannot See
What We Cannot See
©April 13th, 2018
By Vijaya Sundaram
 
What’s on your mind now?
Mother fox nuzzling her kits
In a hostile world.
 
And bombs that rain down
Over broken desert lands –
Death that blooms in dust.
 
What’s on your mind, now?
Rivers flowing to the sea –
Arteries of oil.
 
Songbirds falling down:
Dying leaves in dying copse –
Things I cannot see.
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Nostalgia in the Night
Nostalgia in the Night
©April 12th, 2018
By Vijaya Sundaram
 
A fox ran across the road.
The streetlights blinked in surprise.
Then, collectively releasing a sigh,
Our cars drove on, relieved
That the fox had made its crossing.
 
Night speaks to me in visions
And visions are full of shadows and light,
Like a shy fox, the truth emerges
From behind a fence, waiting to pounce.
I look behind me, as I go into the night.
 
I look back, and see all that I left behind,
And I’m tempted to turn around.
I see vast arcs of sunrises and sunsets,
A life lived far away, brought suddenly close
In a song my mother used to sing,
A song that my Tamil culture treasured.
 
A song that speaks of a passing breeze
Bringing music in its wake, the song
Of a dark God, playing his flute,
Music that makes stars shy,
A song that makes stones melt,
And dead trees to come to life.
 
I look back, and catch the brightness
Of passing scenes from the past.
I am vigilant, though. Looking back can kill.
Perhaps, I should sleep, and dream
Of foxes slipping silently into the night,
And move forward into a morrow that awaits.
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What People Need
What People Need
©April 11th, 2018
By Vijaya Sundaram
 
It’s so simple, really.
You, and you, and you hold me up,
I hold you, and you, and you up –
Like the foundation,
The substructure, the superstructure
Of bridges, held impossibly
Over vast, plummeting chasms.
 
It is trust that the impossible
Can be possible, that there’s respect
For this that makes this emerge, full-formed:
All the components together,
Not one greater or lesser,
All integral to the suspension,
All making the connection
Between here, and hereafter,
And there, and thereafter.
 
No belittling, no disbelief,
No sarcasm, no anger –
Time is brief, and life briefer.
Lock the parts together,
Make that suspension hold.
There’s beauty in all of it,
And underneath it all,
Love.
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Young Love
Young Love
©April 11th, 2018
By Vijaya Sundaram
 
Young love hits like a tsunami
Leaving behind devastation.
The waters swirl everywhere,
Carrying bits of broken beings,
Banging into bits of other broken beings.
 
There are deadly whirlpools.
Rising waves obliterate all
That we built up of ourselves.
Gasping, we reach out,
Grab a passing plank,
Heave ourselves up.
 
Far away, an island
Green and calm, waits.
Calmness is a dream,
Calling our bruised hearts.
We do all we can to arise
From under that wave of feeling,
And reach that place.
 
And as we flow towards it,
The waters ebb, the debris
Is deposited on passing shores.
And as the wave subsides,
We grieve even as we utter a prayer,
A song of gratitude for the chance
To remake ourselves,
And to be remade.
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