One leaf.

One leaf. One leaf falling from bough to mud. So many
considerations. Height. Gravity. Size. The side the wind

woke up this morning. One leaf. Not in the sky. Not on
earth. Both still and moving. Both alive and dead. Both

watcher and watched. Both character and story. Life, at
best, is only this bleeding wound: falling, is a necessary

ritual. You only have to ask the rain. On a night like this,
when the heart is stubborn, when skin aches for skin,

when night itself is only a silhouette cast upon a distant
moon – on a night like this, you only have to ask love.

34 thoughts on “One leaf.

  1. We, too, have taken a step back and increased restrictions. Missing the companionship of my friends and socialization of any sort, I’m afraid I’m identifying with the one leaf! Great write.


  2. It’s that state of flux between still and moving that feels so torturous. Even if the the state settled upon is less than what was wished for, at least there would be answers. There would at least be relief in having some definition from which to start from.


  3. A great write. I especially like the ‘Both this and that” references, and most especially “Both still and moving,” Very moving indeed. salute!


  4. Beautifully written and stimulating as ever, dear friend. The metaphors you use always seem to provide you with something fresh to say.


  5. Beautiful, Rajani! I love how the simple image of ‘One leaf falling from bough to mud’ took you on a philosophical journey and you ended up with love.


    1. Thank you, Sarah. Staying home – we have another lockdown starting tonight in our state. There’s been a sharp spike in cases after restrictions were eased earlier. Much like some of the US states. Really a dark tunnel with no end in sight. Poetry must be a bat to survive in such times! Do stay safe.


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