I Bring You Lilies
The few moments I get with you
once in few years,
I bring you lilies.
On my way I stop and I choose carefully
each flower,
I feel the soft resilience of the buds yet to bloom,
the smooth and thick flesh of petals
that have spread handsomely,
the crispness of their edges,
and the symmetry of how they have parted,
how they hold a cup of empty space in the centre,
that is hope.
I bring you lilies,
holding them close to my chest
as I try to keep my balance in the rain,
through the narrow streets of Fontainhas in Panji,
washed and glassy
with bright ochre and orange walls of Portuguese architecture
wrapping them in an impressionist painting.
At a distance, through the refractions of rain
like a mirage you are somewhere there,
as I walk toward you
I hold the lilies tight to my chest,
so that they are not hurt, they are not maimed.
The white ones hold their silence—
they must speak, they must sing, they must live
while I am away,
like the pink lily in the centre with streaks of red
that carouses in the wind in a brash way.
At the end of a long journey and timeless wait,
I bring you lilies
to sit in the shades of your kindness.
You remove them stem by stem and cut them neatly,
and place them in a glass vase.
We sit down for a few moments
and look out into the rain-washed garden.
The lilies in the glass vase sit with us in silence.
I wonder in mute joy if you will ever know
how much I love to bring you lilies,
time and time again.
© Madhu Kailas Jun 2023 / Goa 29.06.23
Indian Literature
3 thoughts on “POEMS”
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