Reinvention

Reinvention ~

She doesn't tell me things now,
As she looks out of the window, I wonder
what she thinks of.
It's the mystery of women, they say,
the uncovering is slow - the pace theirs.

But this was not how it was.

How is it that our closest relationships are the ones
whose stories dry up first?
We look at each other, and we see the same refrains
playing in our minds.
I say - she's silent, thats her nature - and turn away.
And the chum of a whole universe inside of her
finds its way in rashes in our togetherness.

What prevents us from new narratives?

Maybe I will share more,
maybe it will be a difference if I share first,
maybe I will disengage our comfortable grooves of knowingness.
Maybe I will reinvent ourselves.
We could then be the poetry I pen every night,
the pain shared in words, rather than silence.

Then, when we hook our arms and walk with familiar paths,
we could be far richer than the sunset we walk into.

~ words of Sunil Bhandari