Moons of forests
that protect the child,
a story of self
crossing seas of tears
and faraway lands.
Surrendering—
swimming through
a deep, deep hurricane,
of within
and without.
Drop the cover.
Eat the myth.
Vaishali Paliwal
Category: vaishali paliwal
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Winter moon arrives as the sun
still rests
above the footprints of deer and men.
Nothing is busy this hour—
neither the frozen lake
nor the families of geese returning.
This first day of the year after the end
carries a silence of wisdom.
I am in love with the red berries,
with the crystal snow.Vaishali Paliwal
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Mother, your tender branch is my temple.
The roots of you bind with mine.
Your wind is my prayer.
Your fire, my shelter.
The half moon sends your messages—
clouds carrying source light,
visions of angels.
My feet are forever indebted
to your soft ground.
How my great burdens vanish
beneath your carpet of daffodils.
Tell me
how I may serve you,o great Mother.
Vaishali Paliwal
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A dark, mystical forest
and light through the crystal window,
sacred,
reminding the pilgrims of the source.
Something opens—
a sweet melody we began this journey for,
we, the travelers of time,
repeating and unrepeating lives,
ready to taste the bliss of roads,
of arrivals and departures,
all a myth.Vaishali Paliwal
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The rainiest of days
have a chance
to meet with you, beloved.
Driest branches of winter
swaying in chill winds,
echoes of birdsong,
the fog that follows—
all are moments
to meet you. -
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A letter must be written
to the one holding sunflowers.
His song is the hymn.
He sings to those behind cages.
The light-bearer himself,
he departs now.II
A letter flew in.
It carries poems of all the mystics,
all the candles that burned,
left their stories here.
God takes many forms.
God is present in departure,
in arrival,
in the branches.
We kneel in the snow
and welcome the sun.
My sisters and I track the birds,
the letters.Vaishali Paliwal
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The great song will find you.
It will come in sleep.
A mystic will raise an altar.
Every lamp of the world
will burn without oil.
You will be reminded
of the earth gods—
grown from root and stem and rain.You will fall so deeply
into the forest behind
that even your name
will forget you.
Then you will wake,
singing the great song.Vaishali Paliwal
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The land of the seven moons is ours,
beloved.
Quiet light covering our bodies.
Our bodies, invisible.
Go—dance as you like.
Go—build and break, love and separate,
be kind and unfair, just and cruel.
But return.
Return to this sacred rock.
I have kept a fire burning for you.
I have built a roof for your winter.Vaishali Paliwal
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In the calm sea of spirit, I rest.
The “I” without desire,
nothing to defend,
no shelters to build.Only endless waters of stillness.
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Dear beloved, I can’t send you my letter.
The new gods deny rivers.
The letter holds my adoration and my despise.
It holds my doves and my knives.
Time flies and flies—
into what, I do not know.
There is a memory of us.
I sealed it.
I intended to send you the seas,
but the new gods deny it.
There will be no new ink for you.
No new love.
You will keep thinking of me
and wonder
whether our separation had a day
or a night.©Vaishali Paliwal
Moonwater 