Come to me – ever familiar..

Come to me   ever familiar.. short poem

Come to me as a stranger

who is evermore familiar,

as a face in our dream that we long to touch,

as a voice in our heads that we have forever waiter for,

come to me as a stranger, my love,

and we can begin to know,

to touch each other hesitantly like children

conscious of where our bodies end and begin,

to knock upon each other’s heart

and enter shyly, as a guest,

a place we have entered so often

without knocking, with thunderous demands,

with proud declarations of love,

but now unsure of where to sit, what to say,

just grateful to be allowed in,

to be permitted to ask about one’s whereabouts,

to share one’s own adventures in absence,

to risk a kiss, to steal an embrace, if one may,

like adolescents in a park bench,

having forgotten the knowledge of a thousand nights.

Come to me as a stranger, ever new,

and we can begin to know one another

in all the ways we have never known

and remember all that we can ever be.

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Balaji Gopalan

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I owe all of my poetry to the influence of Pablo Neruda. Reading him 10 years ago on the beaches of Goa, gave me the permission to be who I am and write what I feel. My poetry has never been the same after that. All that I write is an offering to Neruda.
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