I have dreams
of you in the mountains.
Meditating yourself into a
perfect state of bliss and oneness
You as Shiva—because
you looked exactly like him when
you covered your forehead in the white
powders, lines proving your soul
was never mine,
you were never mine.
And now you’ve gone to the jungles
instead of the mountains, and a part
of me wants to find you there:
Imagines the big cats you last told me you saw
(your spirit animals),
I see your eyes meeting their eyes
within the rubber trees of Kerala.
You’ve gone wild
the way I wish I could go wild, too.
Would you have let me follow you there?
If I stayed, would we
have traversed the jungles together?
Sometimes, in my rewriting,
I slip towards you,
a striped orange shimmer,
between banana palms
and the sky.
We slink off together,
too busy feeling wild
reaching for the pen,
Because we would be leaving together,
both of us leaving the Lands of Rewriting,
the places where humans keep adding
to their own rules.
We would choose the jungles.
We would choose to be
*For those who are curious: this poem is about some of my experiences living in South India that inspired my first novel,
. I’m working on some poetry right now that explores those memories and I’m thus far calling the series of poems MAKARA Makara’s Roots or possibly The Rewriting.