Saturday, January 10, 2015

The dear familiar

The dear familiar

 We take an early morning taxi ride, a coach
a long-haul flight, a Chennai taxi
dodge and weave, close our eyes and pray
a train air-con, what bliss!
A heave a grunt of heavy bags, staggering and sweat
and one last taxi, black and yellow
Katpadi to home
the dear familiar.

Tata trucks, Soundhorn, Latteri and KVK
the ATM, bus stand
then PKPorum, slow, turn left
still rutted final road
Paul's hotel unchanged
the dear familiar
RUHSA building newly blue
wood-smoke scented curls, rising heat and spice
crows and tamarind trees
hibiscus orange blooms
a click a clack a clickety clack
train's long long mournful call.

All day, all night and half another day and all for this
for this
Unlock the door, switch on the fan
listen...
we are home!

9th January 2015, RUHSA S India, for Pam with so much love

4 comments:

  1. Discovering memories in poetry is brilliant! A very nice home too x

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  2. I really think poetry is the best Memory-Keeper. When I'm writing it is therapeutic and satisfying to try to encapsulate how I am feeling at the time and then when I read it much later, out pops the memory quite intact. It's good though to see that Pam and Wendy read these India poems and are sent back to their memories of previous visits; and now Jude, after her return, also has her memories stirred.

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  3. Absolutely Sally. You have an amazing ability to capture the essence of an experience and you bring it to life in a way I never could. x

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