Joy
At lunchtime I bought coffee rasgulla tiramisu,
it made me smile.
I unveiled the box and shared it with M and V –
they got quarters and I had a half.
That Tiramisu, it made me delirious with joy,
as ordinary things often do lately:
tables laden with food,
symphony of flavours in home-cooked meals,
V prancing and bursting with energy,
gathering of kinfolk.
Walking barefoot on grass,
the wind in my face,
the moon rising over the old willow,
the stars that speckle the sky.
This is happiness, solace, contentment;
this is life.
They say elephant grieve,
octopuses remember and predict,
crows hold grudges.
Much cannot be retrieved;
however,
sometimes,
some things overpower all the wealth and glory in the world.
The rest of the day was effortless.
I ran some errands and enjoyed them and sipped spiced guava juice.
I love you, V.
I’m grateful you exist, and for all that you’ve been to me.
Together, we grow.
Bittersweet Reckoning
I want to sometimes leave the busy commotion of my mind,
abandon my desires,
I want to turn off the workings of memory and anticipation,
I want to sometimes latch on to the present moment
as if it’s the only one that really matters.
I want to nap in a patch of sunlight,
savour a delicious meal,
smell fresh herbs,
I want to get excited about the full moon,
rejuvenate with the calm of the stars,
I want to find solace in sunsets,
I want to read, I want to devour the giants of literature,
the magician of magicians –
Zola, Balzac, de Goncourt,
and I want to write with the enthusiasm of a Marseilles sitting down to his bouillabaisse.
Many times in life
I have been a victim of my own optimism.
I wonder if it is okay to sail through life
with no greater ambition than to be a phenomenal mother.
To find beauty and meaning in domesticity, to be invested in it wholeheartedly.
To find the transcendent in the everyday.
To embrace the talent for living.
She Loves You the Best Way She Knows How
She loves you the best way she knows how,
she throws herself boldly in the midst of everything,
she shrinks from nothing,
she holds you all together;
without her,
you are all scattered reeds.
She is patience,
she is wisdom,
she is selflessness,
she is exquisite maternity.
She has heavy cares and burdens
which she bears
without a murmur.
Stretched to her limits,
she nurses you through the night;
radiant with energy,
she is on her feet the next morning.
Guiding you towards your highest potential,
she teaches you to waltz with life;
when you find yourself groping in the dark,
she holds you tight to her bosom.
She gives you wings,
she gives you flight,
she loves you the best way she knows how.
Don’t be blind to her sweetness,
her generosity,
her beneficence.
Envelope her with the softest affection.
Never hold back your tenderness
for you never know
how many chances to share it are left with you.
A beacon of hope –
your Mother,
she loves you the best way she knows how.
About the Author
Swati Moheet Agrawal is a mother, poet and writer whose work has appeared in Muse India, Setu, Active Muse, The The Alipore Post, Modern Literature, Sledgehammer Lit, Thimble Lit Mag, Potato Soup Journal, Rhodora Magazine, Friday Flash Fiction, Ariel Chart and The Criterion among other literary magazines and journals.
