Meera’s Longing
Blue dusk on the Aravallis,
tulsi on my tongue,
Somewhere beyond the fort walls,
a flute note calling me home.
They poured poison into my cup;
I drank, and tasted only Shyam.
Your name, bead after bead,
my breath strung on a rosary.
I wear your absence
like a kesariya odhni—
warm against my skin,
endless as the sky.
