the snow queen
stole the heart
of my winter rose
in my window box
i chased her sleigh
for three years
and she said come work
as my slave for another year or more
and then we'll talk
when i said i dont have the strength to do that
she banished me for being irrational


it took us two years to get here
two years of living, learning and creating
now we are back at the mouth of the circle
pure as soft driven snow
a town arrested
by the frozen loch
watching seven confused birds
and resting from learning, practising and wandering
before we wonder where next we move on to
friends are like angels
invisible like sudden burst of perfume
that distracts you from a sulk
long enough for the bubble to burst.

and as invisible, and intangible.
diffuse, and unpredictable
where the next one will come from.
but whenever i need them they appear

my beautiful city

i love you and will always do
how can i help it
you are so beautiful
but now you are cold, and covered in layers of snow
i cannot reach you
i have tried everything i knew
sugar and spice
icepicks and gravel
but your freezing is relentless
i didnt stop loving you
if i stopped talking into the hills
it is because i dont hear the echos anymore
if i went
it is because i kept falling on your streets
and i cant bear to look around the familiar directions
and not see the things i love so much
one day spring will come in edinburgh
but i wont be here
even so, though you are cold and grey today
in my heart another you laughs
no papers were signed
no witnesses kept
no fire was lit
in the centre of our steps
only the moon in two countries
an indian village owl
hurried italian waiter
heard you when you said
you would love and cherish me till we lived
and forsake all the others
i gave you my everything
but you never asked
so no promises were broken
no injustice done
and maybe i imagined the forsaking bit
when mouse scurried across the dried grass
the loch
by the hill
is frozen over
execept for a narrow ledge of water
by the road
the birds, confused
are scattered across
shrugging droplets of summer water
off their dry wings
and stubbornly knocking
at their feet
all day aritra dealt with it like a man. that is to say, he acted like it did not exist, except as a vague nameless irritation, that underlined random small acts like throwing the wood on the floor with forcefulness. then at night finally, when he had crawled into bed, all the memories & pain crept back. and he cried. was there a place inside that tears came from? why did they never run out? aritra the strong, had turned away from life itself to be a scholar. he was strong. yet she could break him so easily, everytime, to her he was just a toy. why was it so easy for her? and so hard for him to walk away from from her callous laughter? why did his helplessness, his pain amuse her? everytime he thought he had found some peace, everytime he thought he could forget her and get back to work, her voice, and her laughter, rang out again. why did it hurt so much each time? he knew urvashi was a dancer, he had always known. why did it keep hurting? it was because he loved her. and love is like a cancer, a disease, a pain that imprisons forever. love is like a spider web. you can not see it till you walk into it. and then you can break it, but traces of it will linger on your face, in your memory. if you have really loved, you will never be free