Tag Archives: hindi

Plane, train and concert tickets.
Letters, messages, postcards, images, dried roses, holy cards, newspaper clippings, poems, sketches.
Snapshots, business cards, satin threads, amulets, notes.

Sometimes they stay, they hide, reappear. Resurface.

And pages of exercises in Hindi from the summer in which the more life was taking away, the more I filled it with spaces and intangibilities because these could not be stolen, removed, appropriated.

Afterward, they even stole the book I was studying on, to remind us, as if life hadn’t already taught us enough, that nothing belongs to us.
Nothing is ours except our conscience.

These pages survived, I don’t know how.
My sounds in Hindi, hung like clothes on a line in the sun.
Tibetan prayers in the wind.

At the entrance to the house, on the wall, I had written the lines of a poem with henna.
I’m sure it’s still there – if you scratch – under new paint.

They just can’t take everything.