FRAGRANT FRAGRANCE

Fragrances were never meant to be followed–
Just existed to be admired
They say fragrance is invisible–
So what did I chase?
A ghost in the wind?
...or light's reckless grace?

I was never fond of fragrances–
Still don't know why I grew fond of this one
A scent never meant to be mine-
Still I... followed like shadow follows light.
That's what it takes to cling to
a fragrant—
fragrance

To those
who abandon the very souls
they once vowed
to die for

hear this...

Even a flower,
plucked and dead
in your careless hand,
will gift you
its fragrance.

It does not curse.
It does not withhold.
It bleeds beauty
for the one
who tore it
from its roots.

So too
do the truest hearts,
they bloom
for their betrayers,
and love
even as they wither.

Churned by cream
Sweet
Oh, but it is
A rose
Dipped in butter
Translucent yellow
Melting into fleshy
Pink
Punctuated thinly
On the edges
Where dirt might get
Into a fingernail
Showing a line
Where color meets
Love of a rose
Singing the sweet and salt
Of butter on
My olfactory
Tongue to the
Earthy fragrance
Only a rosey delight
Gives
To my sight
You are one
Of a kind
My butter Rose

the rotting proves Living
its fragrance  dampens the air
a good morning

I go back in time
as I get a whiff of some familiar scent.

Like the aroma of spices from my mother’s pulao —- the blend of bay leaves, cinnamon, black cardamom and cloves
that left eyes sparkling in anticipation of a royal meal.

Or the scent of fruits
that made their way into my lunch at school - bananas, apples, grapes, oranges
along with an embroidered napkin
that held onto the smell of the season, the love of parents and the comfort of home.

The tanginess of lemons in my father’s cologne —- a burst of summer every time I opened his closet.

The fragrance of roses from incense sticks that my grandmother would light as she prayed —
the mysticism of life in her folded hands.
The smoke would rise from the sticks, curling, to reach heaven along with her prayers -
and I would look upward wondering if God could hear her songs and smell the roses.

The heady scent of rain and earth as we played in puddles
walking and slipping
splashing and laughing
lost in the moment
hearts as light as those drops of rain.

A whiff of these and I travel back in time
I miss the innocence
and melange of those
happy scents and aromas.

It seems like a different world.
And though far away —
It seems like yesterday.

Cherry blossoms, soft and bright,
Dance in spring, a fleeting sight.
Some teach us, like whispers in the breeze,
Lessons in petals, carried with ease.

Others bloom, blessings in the sun,
Filling hearts, dispelling the fun.
As they arrive, they too must part,
Leaving fragrance, a mark on the heart.

Cherish each moment, both lesson and grace,
For life’s like blossoms, a beautiful chase.
In seasons' cycle, we learn to let go,
Embracing the beauty in ebb and flow.