Strangely Familiar

Dear Friends and Family, Happy new year to you all! What I hope this new year brings for all of us, but especially me, is balance. I find this is something I constantly seek, but never quite get right. A friend once told me, though, "balance is not a tension-less state." Perhaps what I seek is not the peace and calm associated with doing nothing, but the peace and calm associated with doing the things I want to/ love to do well. I, like so many of the other "go-getters" I know, want to do everything perfectly and end up failing. Perhaps, this year, I will allow myself some balance by prioritizing the things I need to do with the things I love to do- not trying to make all endeavors equal. This year, I want to make more time for family/friends, dance, and art, as well as self- care (meditation, cooking, exercise...etc). The other things will get done. How do you want to bring balance to your life? I'd be curious to hear your thoughts and/or any suggestions. ...

My apologies for not being consistent about my posts! Truth be told, I haven't written or created any art in some time; so, instead, I will share a poem I wrote when I first moved to Chicago last August. I was walking through Lincoln Park in the afternoon, feeling homesick and keeping to the shade, when I, just for a few moments, felt like my senses were on fire. All the sounds in the park were magnified, the path on which I was walking got brighter, and I got such a strange heady feeling that I sat down on the nearest bench. Here's what came of it: ~Home~ In a new place, I find remnants of my home. Humid, warm air soaks my armpits and my brow as I walk in a shady park. The crickets and cicadas cry out tirelessly, "We are! We are!" We are life. We are beauty. We are one. Miraculous trees in Urban outer space ground me To the earth, root me In place I am home wherever I find my memories. I am home. ~Poonam Desai (8/16/2010) Lincoln Park/ Urban Oa...

While I am glad justice has been served for so many, I hesitate to celebrate. Osama bin Laden is one man among many who shared his sentiment. This is not about the defeat of one man, and that's why this is not over. We, as a human race, are only as good as our weakest individual; so, we have a long way to go before peace is the reigning force among us. E ach of us must constantly ask ourselves what image of America are we portraying? What image of humanity are we extending to others? If this is to be such a historic moment, let us not simply celebrate death, but contemplate the suffering of others and better ourselves so that history need not repeat itself. As we think on these things and evaluate our role in peace/war, I offer a poem I wrote years ago that still aptly summarizes my feelings toward all of these things. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Cheers, PD ~War~ Static whispers on the radio Something is wrong in Sarajevo They crash! Kamikaze are idols But ...

It's finally spring! As cold and desolate as winter was in Chicago, spring (though it came in May) is just as refreshing and beautiful. I think, perhaps, winter is the sleep of time, or of nature. The buds must close and the grass must fade so they can rest and be fully renewed when the sun returns. There is nothing that inspires as much hope and peace as a lovely spring morning. So, I bid adieu to the winter and the cold (both external and internal) with a little ode to black.  ~Black~ swish whoosh gone Quiet is the sound of the dark Raven black.  easy are the steps of those who walk above who do not know whither their steps may go.  gray film blurs everything in kind when  a light goes out and leaves darkness behind. dreary skies overhead  and heaviness within, I cry a salty tear, a coal snake slithers down my cheek. black is numb and cold yet it pierces and aches  it hurts, it is hurt it is nature's sad day slither and swoosh  extingui...

I find purple to be one of the most beautiful colors in nature. It is coveted by royalty, and brightens any field of wildflowers. It is rich, it is delicate, it is sweet, and wildly dark. The twilight sky is nightly stained with violet memories, and lavender fields are divine in their gorgeous simplicity. I share with you my thoughts on this majestic color.  Purple In the shade of the orchards we sit, you and I. Whispering our silky words into the crisp air. I dreamt of amethyst suns glazing the world with a plum frost and holding your hand for the first time. I always see best when there are lavender flowers woven into my hair and the juicy flesh of a royal pomegranate drips down my chin, leaving a strange violet vine. That is when I am without name or fame, desire or shame. It is this night that the gems of the earth matter not, that even the orchids bow their regal heads.  We are outside the universe and outside care.  I would not dare to end this pensive hour, ...

No one ever says brown is their favorite color- it's not bright, it's not vibrant, and it's not very beautiful. It is earthy. It is natural. It is skin, soil, butterfly wing, and death. It is, perhaps the deepest color of the earth, as well as the most elevated. How 'bout them brown apples? ~Brown~   What are you that brings sweat to men's brows as they tear you apart, reaping and forcing you to give for centuries? You thirst for the rain, sweet martyr,  while they thirst for your very last fruit. What are you that men will kill thousands of their brethren, holding you hostage along with their own brothers? You must quietly drink the blood they have spilled, weeping silently as they mar your skin with shallow mines. What are you that an exile longs to crawl back to your warm womb rather than seek riches elsewhere?  He will lower his lips in a fervor of final peace as he kisses that which can be his only home. What are you that men shamelessly use you for thei...

Next up in the series is... you guessed it! Yellow (gold, ochre, amber, sepia, daffodil...whatever you want to call it). Yellow has always been the color of optimism for me- never overbearing, just bright enough to make me smile. This poem pays tribute to that particular quality of yellow that means light, joy, and hope. ~Yellow~ When the sun shines, you’ve got to catch it Save it for those amber-colored days When the lemons won’t turn to lemonade Because you ran out of sugar last week Save it for that faded moment Of sepia-toned memories Playing like a reel behind your eyes Maybe a remnant of a sunny state fair day Or a flash of ribbon resting in her dark hair Mmm- if I could, I’d fry your smile In golden butter And dip it in mustard Before gobbling it up, Licking the crumbs off My fingers And slurping the juice off My plate When the sun shines, you’ve got to catch it Soak it in. Grow your seed into a Sunflower The daffodils will never Lie down of their own Accord Sand is not just ...