Four Poems

The ‘A’ Car

There have been nights in these
unimaginable times slicing down
the empty highway in my ‘A’ car
when I had felt like some energy,
some chosen purpose, a voice
created to penetrate,
created to tear through this horizon of darkness.
An indulgent thought — born of speed.
But beneath the thought I knew that this voice
which would find herself after the wheels
had crunched upon the driveway
after I’d risen on the lift
after having sat down at my desk
had words only from my own sorrows
until the last lights blinked out

* *

Why I Love to Write

So as to write about anything
Say, a woman walking bare-footed toward
A well, with a vessel on her shoulder,
Head covered or not by a veil,
Her dress straight down, or
Cinched about her waist with a knot,
You have to know the container’s size
The shape Its weight
How often she makes the trip
How far she has to come
Which country she is in
What else is happening in that country

One has to know all of these things

* *


try lunging from place to place
in the dark
with distracting sounds
the odour of scents
an orgy of pleasures
try drowning out what you heart is repeating
pretending you are living well
that the longing comes and goes
like the great moon, capricious
try telling yourself
the world’s biggest lie:
we lose control of what happens to our lives
they become manipulated by fate

* *

This Life after Death

In my culture time does not exist;
at this moment of my writing
the present is being created
and destroyed
I am living out my future
I am living out my past
What I say now changes
all of my past
it changes all of my future.
And when my heart is at home
where time is eternal
where the lights are always burning
where the road never ends
my voice begins to speak again


  1. Hey Vera! Nice poems… Hope you’re staying safe…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hey, Sundaram, thank you. Do stay safe, too.

      Liked by 1 person

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