saree-rag lady
child on her hip
through the car window
stone-faced man looks away
glistening tar
open drains
a lone wet chappal
in the gutter
a woman curses
as a bike
cuts through the puddle
muck-white salwar
under the bus stop
strangers huddle together
in overlapping
shadow-patterns
look here
mud-covered tyre
and there,
newspaper print leaks
street rain,
revealing, concealing
filling up, washing away
the secrets of the city.
spirit
this one
is not just some
intangible wispy mist
it has volume
direction
life
it has muscle
power
energy
it's elastic
it's tough
poke, prod
and it will
bounce back
into shape
made of
stronger stuff,
this full-bodied soul.
Ramya Sriram keeps track of the endless cup-of-life-runneth-over type experiences by writing poetry and drawing stick figures. She has recently published a book of poems in free verse titled Inklings and blogs at http://moimystique1.blogspot.com.