for TinkerBell
homeless
she comes home—
like two peas in a pod
we live the seasons
of our lives together
for fifteen years
we chase butterflies
amidst the dahlias . . .
fire consumes and only
her remains remain
she's gone
yet i feel
her presence
that nudge, that nudge again
comforts this grieving heart
i am taught
not to grieve . . .
her walk across my hair
to drink water
from the bedside table
moonbeams
drizzle in
through the window . . .
i light a ghee diya
in front of her picture
the clay pot
rests on my lap in the car . . .
onward we move
to the river flowing east
that waits to embrace her
as the morning settles
over the river
i immerse her ashes . . .
i cannot say when and where
this love begins or ends
sunbeams dancing
over the waters of the Yamuna
join the horizon
moving like my thoughts
towards an unknown destination