I drove often to see her,
a terrible ache just above the chest.
I would drive for miles, 17 years old,
knowing the roads by heart having
tried so many nights, 
only to turn back.

After all, I lacked courage, 
didn’t have the right words, 
or so I thought.
My dark hands gripping the steering wheel
filled with hope and longing 
terrified me.

Over the years 
I have learned to be brave
as we all do in our own way,
brave enough to leave, to stay,
to pray, to speak tenderness into 
those broken places,
to hold our ground against 
brittle old stories under our feet.

I was brave.
I knew that one cannot betray
the pull of love,
the body’s fire

The desire

to be whole.

Even then, I knew that courage 
didn’t lie at her door,
but travelled for miles, day after day, 
year after year, through the pale
glare of street lights,
daring to be loved,
determined to be free.

Anki Sinha

After a long while
the old habits turn
brittle and break
apart. The fear,
its soft, aged tendrils
slide off your bones
and you open.

You see skin sliding off the biggest lie.

That you,
impossibly, wondrously,
perfectly formed,
were not enough.

And you ate that lie,
slept with it, draped it around your eyes,
pulled apart your chest, hung it on your ribs to
feel it feed on your heart at night.

It took a long time
to wipe your bones clean
and live in your skin.

Sometimes, still confused,
you slip between surprise and relief,

you finally remember everything that
is love,

every good thing you are made of.

Anki Sinha

This story must begin with your fingers

flat against paper

dark fingers against darker lines

like barbed wire fences.

Then you must welcome the words,

ones that exist without patrols or

dogs sniffing in the sands,

ones that imagine the other side of the divide–

large, wide, round —

a lover’s waiting embrace.

Priyanka Sinha

when you put it up

precise, absentminded

arms raised, head tilted–

an inward sway —

makes me look away

its absolute grace

breathtaking

Priyanka Sinha

We will always have stories.

Even as we grow
accustomed to the mind’s
slow silence,
we will have them. If we are lucky,
they will include bowling shoes, a ukulele,

the Ganges, the time the car skidded,
or when the shadow
of the tallest mountain in Sri Lanka
formed a perfect triangle
on the clouds.

How it took us
seven hours in the dark,
chasing the moon, to the top.

Or her smile.
And our minds sing again.

So, tell me yours; I can tell you mine.

For a moment,
let’s be generous, less alone,
more a part of all things,
as we truly are — soft creatures
slowly awakening to our common language.

Anki Sinha
Inspired by Mary Oliver

My mind

trying to find 

the easy way out

there 

rather than here

the sudden flash of nothing

scatters my thoughts in 

every 

direction

Priyanka Sinha

the you in my mind

is not the you as you are

i would do without my mind

to know you as you are

Priyanka Sinha

From Monroe to Irwin, the Beltline
gains in elevation.

It’s imperceptible.

And the stretch back is comfortable,
the wildflowers clearly defined.

Now, after many days of endurance runs,
it’s all easy.
I notice
birds
fish
the little happy pig under the
bridge
a woman’s bright yellow sneakers, a
briefcase,
a blue suit

She smiles.

Practice living in and not around suffering

I notice all kinds of beautiful things

Priyanka Sinha

Fire in your wake, you burned, my friend.
So much beauty and brokenness here.

And where would you go from these old, 
upturned trees, roots spilling ?

What would you do?

The warm southern hills slope back and forth.

A giant, booming among sycamores,
you could be forgiven here again,

so full of arrogant miles, your body wants to know this river.

There it is, that endless cascade glimmering from stone to stone.

What will you do now?
Why not begin?

Most things mend
or come to mind again and again.

The leaves know
as they hit the ground
how these seasons change.

Priyanka Sinha

Hercules killed his family. 

As punishment he had to perform twelve labors, 

which included vanquishing a monstrous serpent 

with nine heads.

True. The Goddess made him do it. And he got confused.

Does that matter?

Hercules in your heart is some bad karma.

Priyanka Sinha