ambition at 33

my ambition at 33
is not gandhi. not van gogh. but close.
is not to write poems. sweet like street blues jazz.
with an inner understanding so that i can write like solomon
about"vanities of vanities"

nowadays i am trying to be like a potted plant
dont laugh. honest. a tree, a creeper
an anthurium in the sun.
holding my one single flower like a prayer
be one of the paddy people. live in the marshes
and wet places.

my ambition at 33 is to learn to speak fluently
the language of flowers
beautiful fragrance. mute
straightforward conversation. flawless.
my tongue.a big purple flower.
honeyed, but not in your face
only bees and butterflies would listen

my ambition at 33
(sorry papa)
is to understand silence
listen. always. like the coconut palm.
learning to nod my head. in affirmation.
know that the taller you grow the more shade
you need to live behind.
learn to share my shadow.

to learn to stand up like garden plants.
always like life is too sacred to sit down
life is too passionate, too worthy of respect
that one cannot lie down , even for a second.

my ambition at 33 is to be a creeper, grow translucent twines
cling on to my near ones, grow into thier lives
hold on to bonds. lest i grow complacent.
to grow roots . deep inside into the soil thats my country
and hold together my family, my language and customs
my brethen.
to marinate in life's joys and sorrows. alike.