Friday, September 13, 2013


All day I listen
Hold inside me the pieces I am handed
Some shiny and delicate
Others, shards of broken glass

Alone, at night
I lay them out on my table
To make sense of them
To water the delicate
To soften the hard
To make a song that heals them

At daybreak I rise with a weary smile
To open my heart
And sing

Then I gather new pieces
And set to work
Alone at night, again.

- Saraswati