R. Mahalingam
&
Nagamani Mahalingam
Last year, at about the same time
my father sank into a deep sea of depression
never to emerge again.
Going the way my mother went
he made me wonder
if there is no place in this wide world
for these two beautiful people.
The Waves lap repeatedly at the shore,
the distant grey water run into a flaming sky
An old building stands on a cliff
now abandoned, falling apart,
its hallway echoing with voices of ghost children.
Streets that once witnessed history
are filled with the mundane.
Fishermen crouch on the sidewalks smoking,
their wives haggle the prices of the catch.
Rainbow streaked slimy fluid drains into the sea.
The expansive creek stretches out to hug the vastness
where the earth meets the heavens.
Here I have come in search of you
miles away from my home and yours.
My Garden 