Arunoday Singh

There are silences within us

We, who reflect only moonlight.

Silences they cannot drown

Or wash with television,

Silences that never whisper

Music that never stops.

I do not remember

My dreams.

I search the faces,

For the bright ones,

With eyes like drops of nectar.

We gather the sheets, and

Whisper “Good night,”

to empty beds.

Linger with the shattered

Things, and whimpered dreams.

Away from the silence.

This begins with guarded smiles

Safe distances, excuses wrapped

In Hookah smoke and Turkish coffee,

And two perfect cups of lemonade

Wearing matching smiles.

Words dancing to her voice.

Fingers weaving around each other

Like dragonflies in the sun

I take her eyes in mine

And forget to look away.

A song sung by this woman of quiet,

Distant places, and desert suns.

And hair that curls and flows

Like the pen of an Arabian poet.

A woman deeper than all of this,

A sound vanishing beyond itself

She sprinkles me across her sky.

Jasmine dreams in a secret garden.
She gives me the words
I told my ears to forget.

A prayer calling its priest,

As I take her in my arms,

And welcome her home.

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