This time too,
Krishna,
You played your magic flute,
Made us long for you,
Dark and silent as you always are,
Filled my heart, standing there,
As though a stone,
You think no one sees you,
Because you close your eyes,
A little one, stealing,
But my heart, no stone, no butter,
Weeps, bleeds, swells, bursts,
A volcano that cannot contain,
Then you speak volumes,
Only I can hear, understand,
Some unguarded moment,
For a very short while,
It surprises me,
When you say my time is up,
I thought I just arrived,
And before I come to know,
You disappear,
It hurts, don’t you know that?
Geeta Varma: She has been a teacher for thirty years and a Freelance journalist. She is now an Educational Consultant and writes for Deccan Herald. She enjoys working with children and has conducted many creative workshops. Her interests include music, reading, writing (poems and stories for children) and travelling. She is married to Shreekumar Varma (Writer and Novelist) and has two sons, Vinayak and Karthik and a daughter-in-law daughter Yamini. She lives in Neelankarai, Chennai.